An Adjustment of Character
by Kd Zeal
Summary: In an alternate world with many former human fan-writers turned into their own OCs, one teaches another about reality. Serious fic, mentions of slash, and nothing is what you expect. End.
1. Prologue

So, it's been forever since I posted a fic, I know. I explain in my profile. Anyway, this is a mash-up of a few different TF 'verses, including fan-verses (I have permission). I don't own anything, although I do think the concept is rather unique. It doesn't seem that way at first, but this is just the prologue. Things get explained.

There are mentions of slash relationships in here, so far as TFs can be gendered. There is also mentions of multiple partners. Fair warning, and if you don't like it, please don't read. There are also Decepticons being 'cons, and they're not the nicest. Nothing at all over the top, though.

And in the future, my notes will be smaller again. Promise.

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><p>Roadstead was <em>proud<em> of himself. Justifiably so, he believed, standing in the little foyer with the other inductees. Hum... he wasn't sure he liked that word, it sounded like there were here involuntarily, which was far from the truth, even with that little red mech's twitching. But they were far from recruits by now, had attained too much to be called that...

The brown Seeker let his language musings go, looking towards the door and smiling tightly. They would go out soon, go out and be branded... His wings twitched, and Roadstead let them. It would be painful, they had all been told how it was the most painful thing they would ever experience. He didn't care. Soon, he would be a _branded_ Decepticon... Hardly the first OC to become such, but that didn't matter. Roadstead wasn't concerned with being first. It was enough that he had made it, fought and suffered, obeyed and betrayed, and not gotten himself killed, and now he was _here_.

He straightened a little as the ping came, and then, since he was closest to the door, led the way out. The crowd was unimportant, though very noisy. Roadstead knew better than to give in to his Seeker love of attention right now, and carefully held his wings still. It was made much easier by the sight of Megatron, _smiling _at them all. Primus, Megatron was beautiful, beautiful and terrifying with the branding iron crackling in his hand. After the branding, Roadstead knew he might just have a chance with his lord, but he would also be content if it never happened. There would be a lot of performance anxiety, and Roadstead wasn't entirely sure it would be worth it.

"You who have chosen to take my brand, kneel," Megatron said, voice rich and deep, and the line of un-marked mechs dropped. For this ceremony, they had been painted without their sigils. After this, they would never need them _painted_ again. "And recite your oaths."

Roadstead echoed the words, spark swelling with his pride. He barely noticed the nervous stuttering of the red mech beside him. So nervous... -_If you don't stop fidgeting, someone might think you were _afraid_,_- Roadstead said archly over comm. His gaze was focused passed the grounder, watching Megatron place the brand against the first inductee's armor. By coming out first, Roadstead had ensured he would be the last to be branded, but he could wait.

There was an agonized scream from the mech being branded, but every mech in the hall steeled themselves not to respond. They knew what was coming, had known from the start. The branding was meant to be the worse thing they felt, so they would not fear hacking and torture later. It would not hurt as bad as this.

-_There's no shame in admitting fear_,- a comm came back, and Roadstead glanced at the red mech. -_Besides, why would _I_ be... afraid? You're the one with the wings_.-

Wings which meant _two_ brands, and Roadstead watched the branding iron move as Megatron went to the second mech. The Seeker aborted the instinctual wing-twitch. He was _not_ going to let this ground-_pounder_ shake his confidence and rob him of his rightful glory. -_I am, yes. And I am honored to receive this. Eager, even._- He was. He was eager for the honor, for the mark... Roadstead wasn't eager for the pain. -_So since I do not fear, where do you get off?_- Glancing down, the Seeker added a jibe which was sure to get a response, -_Unless you don't believe that oath you took, in which case, nice knowing you.-_

The red mech did _not _snarl, like Roadstead had expected. Instead, he went very still, watching Megatron as the Lord moved to the mech just before them. Roadstead resisted the urge to groan. -_Idiot_.-

Nothing more was said, and the two mechs watched as Megatron moved to stand before the red one. He shivered, and then visibly steeled himself and froze as the brand touched to red armor. Roadstead did hope he wasn't going to offline. If the mech offlined, _he_ would be what everyone remembered about this ceremony, and that just wouldn't do!

Then the time for thought ended. Megatron side-stepped, and Roadstead looked up to meet the crimson optics. Because there were two brands to give on his frame, Starscream came up as well, in his role as Air Commander, crackling energy-brand held in his clawed hand as well.

"_Lock your wings_," the Air Commander, the _Winglord_, hissed softly, and Roadstead had no choice but to obey. It was a mercy, truly, a concession to Seeker vanity. Under that order, his wings could not quiver and twitch, and the branding would be even.

Moving nearly in unison, the two leaders touched their brands to brown wings, and Roadstead's world dissolved into pain.

It couldn't even have lasted a breem. He could hear the echoes of his own screaming as he came back to his processor. Starscream must have released him from the order at some point, Roadstead realized, twitching his wings and biting his derma not to scream again from the agony of air against his damaged sensors. He forced himself to stand, as the others were, and slowly he realized there was cheering.

The crowd was cheering for _him_, for the newly branded. Roadstead was _proud _of himself.

The smaller red mech was not, as it turned out, dead. Roadstead discovered this after giving Megatron proper thanks, while they were being exhorted to be good and inspiring and all of that. Stepping away to mingle with the crowd, which was turning into a party, Roadstead found himself nearly falling over still-vibrant red armor.

He almost shoved him away, but stopped with one good look at the other's face. Roadstead was still human enough to be very curious, and a touch more compassionate with grounders than the average Seeker was.

And the mech looked lost.

Roadstead pressed a hand to the red back, pushing him towards the wall aggressively. Reaching the wall, the Seeker wasted no time in hefting the smaller mech, letting the red legs wrap around his waist as though they were doing more than talking. "What?" Roadstead hissed. While the mech fit nicely against him, the Seekers wings were _throbbing_ with pain, and the idea of doing anything but talking was rather unpleasant.

The red mech wasn't quite managing to meet his optics, squirming against him. Roadstead knew it was partly pain from the brand on his chest which made the mech move, and so he pressed his canopy against it until the mech got the message and held still. It took a moment or two more, filled with delicate shivers and gasps, for the mech to answer. "You... saved my-"

Uncomfortably sure of what was to follow, Roadstead silenced the mech in the fastest way he could, rather brutally claiming his mouth and glad that the mech's mask was open. -_Don't you say it! I don't _want_ you!-_

-_It's true, though!_- the mech answered, opening his mouth and giving no resistance. -_I took the oath, and I _meant_ it, but I can't do this-_

"Then it's your own slagging fault!" Roadstead snarled, breaking the 'kiss' to glare at the mech, vents heaving.

"It is. But that doesn't change-" Once again, the mech got cut off, but not by Roadstead this time.

"Enjoying yourselves, my new warriors?" Megatron asked, hands settling on the wall just outside of Roadstead's, chassis close enough that, now that he wasn't distracted, the Seeker could feel his warmth.

This was not a good situation, and it was even worse that he was trapped. He had to answered, though... His Lord was asking a question. Lie or truth, though... Roadstead dared to let his head fall back, onto Megatron's chest, so he could see the silver face. Megatron already knew what was going on, he realized, and his pause had been long enough that it was suspicious. "Just a minor disagreement, my Lord. We were working it out on our own."

"If you don't want him, you can always kill him," Megatron pointed out, lowering his head enough to lick at Roadstead's neck for a moment before pulling away. "This is an orn you will always remember. Have fun, Roadstead."

The warmth at his back disappeared, and the Seeker rested his head against the other mech's. 'Have fun'... He couldn't deny the mech's claim with Megatron himself backing it up, and if he killed the red slagger, he would be marked as one of 'that' kind and would never get higher than he stood right now.

"Fine. What's your designation so I know who I'm keeping?" the Seeker huffed, in pain and tired and just wanting to go back to his room.

"My designation is Metrodash," the red mech answered, slowly lowering himself to the floor. "And you saved my life."

Roadstead still couldn't stop the snarl that the declaration of vulnerability caused, and his hand tightened on Metrodash's shoulder. Finishing the ritual didn't take more than a moment, and didn't require any real thought. "You are _mine_," the Seeker said, pulling the red mech closer.

A moment later and they were heading out of the room. The 'facing-play earlier had been a charade, something to cover what was really happening in case Metrodash didn't follow through with his his statement. The red mech had, though, and there was no need to disguise anything now.

Not that they were going to interface. The grounder might be up for it, not that it mattered any longer, but Roadstead was emphatically _not_. His wings ached and the _last_ thing he had wanted was responsibility for a glitch who could barely even mean his own oaths. That was what he had, though... At least Metrodash was responsible enough to know he was safer as another's pet.

The red mech followed the brown silently, wondering what kind of mech his new keeper was. Smart, it seemed so far. Driven, with a chance and a desire to attain more. So far there seemed to be a line of gentleness to the Seeker which hinted at a human background for the mech, but it wasn't Metrodash's place to ask. All he could do was follow and hope he had made the right choice at least once.

Safely in his room- _their_ room, Roadstead amended, looking at his _pet_, the Seeker gave in to the need to pace, wings remaining unnaturally still to minimize the airflow over sensitive nodes. "Okay. So fine. … Fine. Why were you there if you weren't even sure you believed our cause?"

"I... thought I could later maybe..." Metrodash was clearly unsure about answering, but Roadstead just waited. What the mech had _planned_ on doing and what he _could_ do now were very separate things. Finally, the grounder powered down his optics and just spoke. "I thought I could take information to the Autobots and actually be something but life here kept being different than I expected and I thought being branded might make things clearer and... Well, it did..."

"Wasn't even your plan? Least I know you're good at following orders," Roadstead huffed. He sat abruptly, drooping a little. "Just because I didn't want you doesn't mean I'm going to hurt you. Even if I wasn't being watched I wouldn't hurt you. I've been around a couple decavorns. Yes, I'm an OC." He was sure that Metrodash had guessed, and even if he hadn't, it was best to mention it so the red mech had a better idea of where he was coming from.

"I'll be good. Really. I'll do so well that everyone will be jealous..." Metrodash promised. He wanted to do at least one thing right.

"Just... come here and shut up. I'm tired and snappish and really _not_ in the mood right now. For anything," Roadstead huffed.

Metrodash just nodded, joining the Seeker on the berth. Maybe in time they could be something like friends, or at least content together. It happened with debts, sometimes. Right now, neither was sure what to do, despite the profusion of examples. Right now, he would just do as he was told, and it would be enough.

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><p>If you would like, I would very much welcome reviews. I have 3 more chapters written, and lots more coming. ^^<p> 


	2. Chapter 1

Hello, all. Now we get to the real point of the story, and explain some of the things you may have wondered about earlier. All the previous warnings still apply, and I hope you enjoy. ^^ I still don't own TFs. Onward!

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><p>Roadstead was there on the battlefield vorns later when the femme began to flicker in. The war had reached Earth, and he wasn't really surprised to find that it wasn't his home any longer. Not because it wasn't <em>his<em> Earth, but simply because he was a Seeker now. His home was Vos now, and it had been for decavorns.

He was not the first to see the femme. It was the lack of shocks, and the sparkles which surrounded the flickering form which caught his attention. The first thing he noticed were the wings. That was no particular surprise. Roadstead had seen more than one aspiring Seeker OC. Almost none of them had born the requisite spark, however, and he knew not to get too excited over the familiar form.

As her colors started to come in, Roadstead could see even less reason to expect anything from her. They were _hideous_. She was pink. And black. And silver, and red, and gold. Roadstead counted twice to be sure, going so far as to recycle his optics.

A moment later, he realized the Autobots had retreated, and the Seeker huffed. Run away was more like it, so they couldn't be forced to deal with the new OC. Roadstead couldn't blame them, not really. He certainly didn't want to deal with her...

-_Roadstead. You're the only Seeker OC on the field. Get to it,_- the order came, and the brown Seeker felt his wings droop down. Only for a klick, and then he forced them back up. OCs were best at approaching and teaching new ones, and if this femme were, as seemed likely, a Sue, then she would probably react best to a 'fellow' Seeker. He would do his duty.

"Wh- what? What's... happened? What's... I'm..." The femme was looking down at herself, silver and black and red hands. And she was speaking English, luckily. That had been Roadstead's own language, and even though he _could_ download whatever he needed for languages, he would rather _not_.

"A femme, yes. My designation is Roadstead. What's your name or designation?" Roadstead asked, close enough to be heard and a long way from caring who else might hear.

She looked at him, seeming stunned for a moment, and then he could all but _see_ her realization that she was 'in the Transformers world'. Roadstead was not particularly surprised when the next thing she said was, "I'm Cerisseldaque."

Roadstead had to admit, he was impressed. Not many could manage a mouthful like that while simultaneously managing not to sound horribly arrogant. She still _did_ sound arrogant, of course, but that was more a function of her Seeker-form. "It's what, now?" he asked, steadfastly keeping his gaze on her face. It was the best-looking part of her.

"Cerisequade- no, wait..." The femme looked discomforted, and glanced around, wings dropping as she realized that no-one was really paying them any attention. Roadstead knew better, aware that Starscream and Megatron and probably Soundwave were all quite interested in what was transpiring.

"Right. Let's try this again. My name," his human name which he barely remembered any longer, "is Adrian. What is your _name_?"

"I- ah, it's... I told you... w- what's going on here...?" the femme asked, staring at him in utter confusion. The familiar human name seemed to have shattered her facade. Roadstead almost pitied her for a moment, though he still tuned her out as she kept babbling.

_He was confused and lost and more than a little dizzy and overwhelmed by information. He didn't recognize anything around him, or any one, and was slowly getting the idea that everything had changed._

_His arms were brown now, after all. And metal. He could feel wings. And looking up, past the mech trying to talk to him, he could see Starscream._

"You've changed. You're one of us now, and there's no going back. Hopefully you'll be able to adjust." Because he did hope so. None of them actually wanted the OCs to die, even the Sues. "Well, let's get you situated..." Which meant finding Astrotrain and asking him for a ride. Roadstead did not trust the Sue to know how to use the wings she had, and her code hadn't been checked anyway. Astrotrain liked him, at least, and was already providing transport for some other injured mechs, and so Roadstead got the ride.

"You're in luck," Roadstead said as he lead the femme out, patting Astrotrain and knowing the triple-changer would be by later. "As soon as Glit's done with the injured, he should be able to do your code-check. Off-hand you don't seem to need it, but that's how it goes."

The femme looked up at him, red optics an uncomfortable clash with her red paint. "C- code check? What's that? Why... why do I, or would I, need it... I- what's going on...?"

It was clear she was on the verge of falling apart, and Roadstead huffed, flopping into one of the waiting seats outside the med-bay. He could feel optics on him, knew everyone was watching... He hadn't noticed it at his own arrival. He had learned a lot since then.

He couldn't bring himself to touch the garish, slightly oversized arm. "You have become the character you wrote. Or at least a sensible- _mostly_ sensible, version of her. We don't know why this happens. The translation is not always... It's _usually_ fragged up in some manner. I don't know of anyone lately who's died of missing codes, but we check them for a reason. Glit's not bad at it." Not as good as Shockwave had been, but not bad.

_He was so scared, confused. Starscream had taken a personal interest in him, after he had felt his new body- chassis- hurry to follow the canon Seeker's off-handed order. That had been the first sign he bore a true Seeker-spark, and so Starscream had made him follow, brought him here, to a mech he knew._

_To Shockwave._

"Who's Glit...?" the femme asked quietly. It was the quietest she had been yet.

"One of our medics." Then, even though he knew it would confuse her, Roadstead added, "I'll take care of his price. You'll owe me later." Code-checking was mostly tedious, nothing 'expensive'. Still, she _was_ lucky that it was Glit and not Shockwave... At least she was if Roadstead was reading her correctly.

There was further luck in that they hadn't really been hit too hard by the Autobots before the femme showed up. He still didn't have her name, Roadstead mused as Glit walked up. Name or a usable designation...

"You're a cat."

And she didn't have any manners. Roadstead huffed again and cuffed the femme over the head. "He's a cassetticon. Don't tell me you thought they were drones. ...I meant it, don't. If you do, I'll hit you again."

"Just don't leave dents," Glit ordered, padding towards a spare berth. "Code check? Is she really keeping those colors?"

"Yes, and of course she isn't. High-grade, I assume?" Roadstead answered, pulling the femme along. She was too confused to fight back, and giving him dirty looks because of the blow.

"Only if 'Dash finds it," Glit answered, jumping to the top of the berth and waiting.

"Of course," Roadstead agreed, comming Metrodash with an order to get off his aft and find some high-grade for Glit. The femme didn't sit on the berth so much as she collapsed into and against it after Roadstead pushed her, and the Seeker had to look away as Glit connected the hacking cables.

_Shockwave wrapped his arms around the new Seeker, going so far as to murmur soft reassurances. It wouldn't hurt, he promised. "You'll feel me, but I won't hurt you. I'll make changes. I'll make you hot. You'll feel good, beg for me... I'll enjoy this, and there's no reason you won't as well. Most others do."_

_He didn't know what was coming. He honestly didn't realize that Shockwave was in his code until the cyclops made the first change. Each touch was gentle, mirroring the arms which surrounded him, and that was when he realized what Shockwave had meant when he told Starscream that he was the price._

_Still, he liked both the G1 and Animated versions of Shockwave. This one, the real one, was neither and both, and he was being so gentle. Just as had been promised, he was burning, and realized that he could feel Shockwave, and that he was just as hot._

_The first overload had been a surprise. He hadn't realized what it was until he heard Shockwave groan, and then the cyclops had tweaking something in his code and he had opened without meaning to. The action was familiar from fics, but stunning in reality. There had been no time for fear, sharp claws reaching in to stroke across his internals, his spark. He had begged._

Roadstead still wasn't sure exactly what had happened that first night. He remembered pleasure, and had come out with impeccable coding and a taste for being hacked, which seemed to be common in mechs Shockwave had checked. Starscream had gone so far as to tease him before leaving him to the next stage of adjustment.

Still, he wasn't quite able to watch Glit hack into the femme. It had been a long time since he had found someone both willing to hack him and actually good at it, and so watching made him a little jealous. Roadstead knew it was foolish, because Glit wasn't that kind of mech, but... Well, he knew well enough that even as a mech, emotions weren't logical. Not even for Shockwave.

The femme didn't show any sign of distress, or pleasure, and soon enough Glit was pulling away, cables retracting. The femme shivered then, sitting up and looking just slightly panicked.

Well, she _had_ suffered a kind of violation. "It's okay. He's done, you're good. Thank you, Glit, and 'Dash says the 'grade's in your office." Roadstead reached out to help the femme stand, almost able to ignore her colors. If she was as Seeker as she looked, the touch would probably help.

"What was- did he need- He was _inside_ me!" the femme whimpered as soon as she thought Glit was far enough away. The white cassette twitched his tail, but didn't react beyond that.

Roadstead couldn't help but smirk. "Shockwave would leave you begging for more. Come on, let's get you to a room, I guess..." On their way across the base towards the barracks, Starscream stopped them.

"Roadstead. Since you're going to be sharing your room for a while, I think you need a slightly larger one... Up there. Any empty one will do," the Winglord said, tone friendly enough. It was where he was pointing that got Roadstead's attention.

He was being offered a promotion contingent on keeping this twit of a five-colored Sue alive.

Roadstead's wings slipped just a little, only enough for Starscream to notice and smirk. Refusing wasn't really possible, not unless he was ready to end his career at this level, which wasn't something Roadstead wanted. "Of course, sir. Thank you." A respectful bow that was mostly a wing-motion, and the brown Seeker was leading the femme towards the larger buildings, comming Metrodash as he did so. The red mech could move them in while he worked on getting the femme's actual slagging _name_.

"What's... um. I'm a Seeker now? And... and were you...?" Sitting warily on the only berth in the room, the femme looked up at Roadstead.

"I was human. So were others. We're not even uncommon, really, just a little rare. Sues like you aren't nearly rare enough," the Seeker answered, twitching a wing negligently. "I doubt you're a Seeker, just a Seeker-frame right now..."

"I'm not a Sue! Calliandrassa isn't a Sue! She's got depth! She hates watching Megatron have to deal with Starscream, but she's loyal and there for him and eventually they fall in love and it's _romantic_! And she's a much better second in command than Starscream, because she doesn't try to kill Megatron!"

Roadstead laughed, in horror. At least she wasn't trying to seduce him like Flitwing had! Well, 'seduce'... Eh, couldn't blame her for lack of subtly. Not compared to some others in the ranks...

"You can't say your own designation the same way twice. Even if you could, it has nothing in common with a proper designation. Ah-ah!" He held up his hand as the femme opened her mouth. "Point one. How many colors does Starscream have?"

Visible taken aback by the non-sequitur, the femme answered, "T- three?"

"And how many colors does Thundercracker have?" Roadstead continued.

"...three..."

"And Skywarp? And Reflector? And Lord Megatron? And Dirge?"

"Um. Two...?" she offered uncertainly.

"And how many colors do you have?"

"Um..."

Roadstead didn't give her enough time to answer that. "Five. You have _five_ colors. I had to count twice. You have five colors, and they don't even go together! Did you even try slapping them on a screenshot to make a shitty re-color?"

"...no. I... didn't know which form to use for that..." the femme answered, optics large.

Roadstead froze, feeling a bolt of something very similar to panic pass through his frame. "No. No, no, _please_ Primus and the Unmaker and the fragging Allspark, no! Please tell me you're just meaning that you couldn't decide between root and alt forms."

"Well, that too. But I'm a quad-changer." She smiled at him, oblivious to the panic gripping the brown Seeker's spark.

"Quad. Changer." The words were said flatly. She didn't _look_ like a multi-changer. Maybe it was one of the things the translation had marked as unrealistic. Seeker, angel, and devil, maybe? That would make sense...

"Yes!" she said, with the typical enthusiasm a Sue showed. "I'm a Seeker, shuttle, and space-ship! I thought about something organic, but I don't like Sari or BA and that would just be gross."

"...Seeker, shuttle, and space-ship," Roadstead repeated. More laughter came, slightly hysterical for a moment, until the Seeker controlled himself. "What in the _blue pits_ were you thinking? That's not even valid! A shuttle _is_ a space-ship! And they're both just a sub-set of Seeker... That's like saying you're a boat, dinghy, and lifeboat! Why would you even try..."

"No they're not!" the femme argued, pouting. "Seekers are in the air, shuttles go up and down, and space-ships stay up!"

The shuttle bit would probably be why she was bigger than he was, then, Roadstead mused to himself, catching one pink-black-red wing in a grip he knew was painful. "I've _been_ in space. Shuttles are Seekers with more cargo room. And all our space-crafts most certainly _do_ go 'up and down', because if they didn't, how would the Autobots' Cosmos ever interact with his faction-mates?"

Not surprisingly, the femme didn't answer, looking at Roadstead and whimpering. The door opened, and Roadstead let go of her as Metrodash came in with a box. The red mech looked at the femme, then back at Roadstead, and nodded. "So that's what happened. Guess I won't bother unpacking too much."

"Yeah. It's not like I'm not trying... Oh, she needs our language, doesn't she...?" He hadn't paid Glit for the download, after all, which was his own stupid fault.

Metrodash's laugh wasn't entirely kind. Because of the debt, still not repaid, _he_ didn't have to worry about finding himself in Roadstead's place. It was the Seeker's test, after all. "Well then, I better keep shifting things."

"...who was that...?" the Sue asked, very quietly. She was afraid of Roadstead now, which had been the point of disciplining her. It only took a glance for the Seeker to decide against giving her the download right now. It wouldn't do to push _too _hard. Using English for a while wouldn't kill anyone.

"That was my... debtor. His designation's Metrodash, and no, you cannot use him." Which she wouldn't understand, because he had used the word 'debtor' and not the slightly more accurate translation of 'pet' or 'berthwarmer and general servant'.

"...Oh."

Roadstead huffed a little, then sat next to the femme. "Honestly? I'm being hard on you. Yes. But honestly? We don't want you dead. Right now, you're a Sue- and yes, you _are_, and don't even try to argue it. And we're in a war, and if you want a real chance to survive and make something of yourself, then being coddled won't help. Anyway, I'm a Decepticon. We're not the side of rainbows and puppies and chocolate and marshmallows and nameless, rankless, _trapped _workers. We're the side that knows how to fight for what we deserve."

She shivered a little, venting hard, and then looked up. "I- I'm Amber. And I still think Megatron shouldn't _have_ to put up with Starscream."

"He doesn't have to," Roadstead answered. "First, the Winglord is not as treacherous as G1 or Animated made him seem. If he was, he would not _be_ Air Commander. Second, he understands our culture, and you don't, which means you are a worse choice than he is. Third, Starscream isn't second in command. Shockwave is. Or Soundwave. Depends on the orn. And moods. Strika is too. It's confusing, yes. Starscream is Air Commander, though. You made your sue for Megatron, trying to replace Starscream, didn't you?"

"I... yes. He... deserves someone... better?" Amber wasn't insisting now, at least. This was a step in the right direction.

"He has them. For you to even have a _chance_ with Lord Megatron, then you have to learn our culture. You have to prove yourself a warrior. You have to earn the brand. Then, maybe, you could get in his berth. And if you want _more_," Roadstead stressed, "Then you have to be _better_ than everyone else in the army. And this is something not even Strika, or Shockwave, or Soundwave, or _any other_ Decepticon has even done."

It was when Amber's gaze darted to his wings, and the purple sigils burned into the metal there, that Roadstead knew what was coming. "Have you been in his berth?"

"No," Roadstead answered. He held off on sharing just _why _he hadn't been, waiting to see what Amber's conclusions were.

"I told my friends their stories of slutty Seekers and 'Cons were wrong!" the femme exclaimed, looking quite triumphant, and Roadstead sighed.

"No. No they weren't. They really were not..." A knock interrupted him, and Roadstead sighed just a little, going to answer. Metrodash wouldn't knock, so either someone wanted to 'congratulate' him or... "Oh. Astrotrain...! I see you found me. I must admit, you're sooner than I expected."

Astrotrain smiled, crowding Roadstead back from the door and further into the room. The triplechanger was never the best at conversation, but Roadstead knew and accepted that, and let himself be pushed back. He felt the berth against his legs, and the Seeker lowered himself onto it, arching prettily and barely noticing as Amber stood, or the shocked expression on her face.

"That's right, pretty wings. Pretty wings, tight valve, so ready..." Astrotrain purred the words roughly, atypically using English as some kind of concession to the femme in the room, and covered Roadstead with his larger chassis with a low sound of stressed metal. One hand cupped the brown Seeker's cheek in a moment of tenderness, and then he was twisting his digits into Roadstead's wings. "Open up, pretty wings, pretty Road. You were in me, let me into you now. Let me in!"

Roadstead moaned weakly, letting his panel open and then gasping as Astrotrain took advantage. The triplechanger was large, and hard. It would be fast, it always was when Astrotrain came in so aggressively. Roadstead knew he wouldn't get much more than a valve full of transfluid from it, but that was okay.

It was only a klick or two later when Astrotrain overloaded, giving a low cry and pulling Roadstead closer to him. The Seeker just pet him for a moment, ignoring his own unfulfilled desire. He had expected it.

"Mm... You're good as always, Road'. So pretty and good," Astrotrain murmured, giving the Seeker a kiss. Neither mech looked up as the door opened, Metrodash bringing in the next load of belongings.

"Hi, Astrotrain. Roadstead, I've got about two more loads. What's wrong with her?"

Roadstead looked over, snorting a little at the expression on Amber's face. "Oh, she just got done telling me that Seekers weren't sluts," he answered, kissing Astrotrain again before the triplechanger pulled out. He closed his panel immediately, and sat up as Astrotrain stood. "See you later, Astro? Oh, 'Dash, going to want you after you've moved everything."

"You know you will, Road'. Hey, and I'm glad I was able to help today. Hey, femme, don't look so worried. You're not my type. Too garish." With those words, meant to be comforting, the triplechanger nodded and left, followed a moment later by Metrodash.

"W- w- what...? I, I... garish... You..." Amber was venting fast, then looked at Roadstead, who was still sitting comfortably on the berth with his legs still spread. "Oh my _God_, are you okay? He- you- Oh my God, I'm so sorry!"

Roadstead flickered his optics at her, wings moving in echo of his confusion. What was she on about, he wondered, tilting his head and trying to remember being human. When he was human... Oh.

He really did try not to laugh. Amber was worried for him, and he had laughed at her a lot. It would probably just scare her right now, anyway. "Amber, I'm fine. This was consensual. Hum... or, to put it in fandom terms, Seekers are extremely slutty."

Amber shook her head, stepping towards him and then stopping. Her wings were fluttering around helplessly, Roadstead noticed, and he was pleased to see that her coding was actually working. "It... It's okay. Um... you said your name was Adrian? It's okay, you don't... you don't have to deal with this, you know. If you can't find help here, then-"

"Don't," Roadstead ordered, sure of what was coming. "I'm not going to the Autobots. I'm not giving up my wings." He shuddered at the idea, but of course Amber hadn't known what she was meaning. "My designation is Roadstead. I haven't been Adrian in most of an eon. And Astrotrain did not rape me."

"Listen, I know sometimes people 'consent' because they don't want to fight. It's okay. He's bigger than you, it's okay to be scared," Amber insisted, voice still smooth and gratingly delicate, as though he were made out of decorative glass.

Roadstead stood, wings flaring. "You think I didn't fight because I was _scared_? I am _branded_, and that _means_ something! If he had come here to rape me, I would have fought to offlining!" And if Astrotrain was trying to court him- well. The triplechanger wasn't, and Roadstead wasn't going to be pursued in any courtship he did participate in. "I knew he would come to my door the moment I asked him for a ride. I welcome him often. It's quite fun- Oh Primus. You're a virgin, aren't you?"

"W- what's that got to do with anything?" Amber asked. She didn't seem to know if she should be scared of him or worried for him.

"I'm not going to do anything," Roadstead answered, sitting and drooping again. "It just helps to explain why you're confused. Remember what I said about understanding our culture? This is the sort of thing I meant."

"But... you just let yourself be- um. Be _used_..." Amber stammered.

Letting his wings move flirtatiously, just to see if she noticed and flushed, Roadstead answered, "Yeah. Our bodies are the thing most Seekers trade the most often. We enjoy it, they enjoy it, so why not offer a tumble? We don't really have STDs or anything, and pregnancy is exceedingly rare and would only mean good things. Obviously it's not the only thing we trade, you heard me give Glit the high-grade."

"But he just..."

"Just pushed his way in and took me and left without even overloading me. And I enjoyed it, it was worth it, I will do it again. There is cost in everything, and almost anything can be payment. Life is a trade... And if you think I sound mercenary, you should hear Swindle." Which was the punchline to a joke so old that only new OCs even had a chance of being amused by it.

"I... I want to go home..." Amber murmured. Roadstead shifted to one side of the large berth, in case she wanted to sit down.

"I know. I did myself."

_He cried and sobbed, curled into himself and ignoring everyone._

"But you can't. You're here. You're a femme." And she had had a very hard day. Roadstead hadn't even been code-checked his first day, but that was just because he had been seeming okay and Shockwave wasn't immediately available and Starscream wouldn't let anyone else at him.

_He only looked up when Starscream himself came, sneering at him and asking why he was giving up so soon. "It's everything you wanted, isn't it? Wings, firepower, life-span. And you're giving up and sobbing."_

_He stopped then, shocked by the harsh words and unable to argue. He still mourned, but he never gave up again._

"What's going to happen to me?" Looking at the berth, Amber finally, slowly, sat down, a little unsteadily.

"I don't know. Much of it's up to you. ...I'll be teaching you. Probably take you around the empire, show you your options." He'd have the time to do that. 'Helping' the sue adjust was his assignment now. And if he did go all the way to New Kaon... Maybe he'd at least be able to get some time with Shockwave.

"Right now, rest. And don't freak out when I use 'Dash next to you. That's a part of our culture... And I'm not raping him, either." He couldn't. Metrodash was his.

"You... shouldn't. I mean..."

"By human standards, I shouldn't," Roadstead agreed. "We're not human." And that was really all there was to say.


	3. Chapter 2

So, yes, more! There's some mech-on-mech in this part, but there was in the last part too. There's not much of that after this... ^^ Also, Roadstead is just a little nasty in this chapter, but only for a short while.

Transformers aren't mine, I hope you enjoy, and all that.

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><p>She was still awake when Metrodash finished the moving. Amber didn't watch, trying to lay on the berth with her back to Roadstead and he wings folded out of the way. Roadstead didn't worry about it, smiling as he watched the red form eagerly move towards him.<p>

"Are you going to take me, Master? Give me that Seeker-spike you love to use... Will you let me sit on your lap and move around you? I'll lick you, pleasure you, fondle your _spark_ if you'll let me..." the grounder said.

He used English, because he knew that the femme didn't have their language, and because he couldn't be less friendly than fragging _Astrotrain_ had been. Roadstead hadn't asked Metrodash to download it, but the Seeker knew that his pet hadn't known the language a breem ago.

Roadstead was pleased with his pet, very pleased indeed, and he pulled the red mech too him almost roughly. "Oh yes you will, my sweet Metro, my sweet valve... I'll make you scream my designation, scream it into my spark..." He shivered, wings rattling with desire. The vibrations would feel exquisite, and he knew from experience that Metrodash's valve was tight. The grounder was smaller than him, of course, which made it seem tighter.

Metrodash came forward, nuzzling the brown panel and moaning hungrily. The Seeker knew he was worked up, knew that his pet had thought about this ever since he had mentioned it, had worked himself into dripping neediness. It was a delicious thought, enough for Roadstead to open without making his pet work any harder. He had never wanted the responsibility of Metrodash, but the 'spy' had turned into the best thing that had happened to him.

The Seeker's spike, deeply ridged and patterned and textured, extended and pressurized almost as soon as his panel opened, and Roadstead moaned deeply. Metrodash took it into his mouth, and Roadstead gave a soft cry, leaning back on his hands. One clanged against Amber, but he didn't let it worry him.

It didn't take long for the Seeker to pull Metrodash up, entering the grounder in one clean thrust, and opening his chest at the same time. As the blue light spread into the room, the femme sat up, turning slowly. She would have read about such things, Roadstead thought in the tiny sliver of his processor which was free. Even seen them, depending on what she had watched...

While she 'could' kill him, the fear never occurred to Roadstead. She was too reciently human to be a credible threat. And Metrodash was licking him, first murmuring and then wailing his name, and everything seemed far too good to be legal.

Roadstead fell when he overloaded, and only came back to himself a moment later, softly petting Metrodash. He knew his pet had overloaded too, could feel how lax he was, and the sticky transfluid on their armor. Then he realized that Amber was looking down at them, face twisted in a kind of disgusted curiosity. Roadstead giggled, mood too high to be bothered by a Sue's displeasure.

"I did not need to hear that. Or... see... And what's so good about a Seeker s- sp- And ugh, I would hate it if anyone talked to me like that!" As she spoke, though, her gaze was fixed on Roadstead's still-parted chest.

"Part and parcel of 'Con 'facing," Roadstead answered, shifting Metrodash to one side with a short kiss to his helm. "Seeker spikes are all ridged and stuff. Like a really textured dildo, or didn't you look at internet toys? Normal spikes are textured too, but not as good. Seekers, well... somewhere along the line, we got kinda made for 'facing. Both ways."

Amber was silent for a moment, until Roadstead got tired of giving her a show and closed his chest. He pulled out a cloth and started to clean himself, and then she asked, "So what... _is_ he? You called him your... debtor..."

"Is that how he translated it?" Metrodash asked, voice drowsy. "Huh. Guess it works well enough. I was stupid, he saved me. Now I'm..." he smirked a little, "paying off the debt."

"Oh." Amber looked from Metrodash to Roadstead, still looking troubled. "...Sexually?"

"I chose it," Metrodash said, more than a little challengingly. He huffed a little, looking up at Roadstead, and then nodded. "I thought I could spy on the 'cons. Volunteered for it in basic. Worked my way up... found out I didn't dislike Decepticons as much as I should. Going for the branding was... _stupid_. Sweet Primus and the Allspark, so stupid..."

He shook his head, cycling air over his internals. "Well. Road' noticed, verbally slapped me. I was able to mean the oath... I chose to trust him to keep me on the 'straight and narrow', you call it? Much to his annoyance..."

"I was angry. Didn't want the responsibility." Roadstead shrugged again.

"It's not night yet, but you should try recharging. I'll give you Cybertronian via download tomorrow, and you'll feel... well, a little better. We've gotta stick around until the paperwork's done." Thankfully, he didn't have to do it, or if he did, Metrodash would do it for him.

Amber looked like she was considering asking more, but she finally just shook her head and reclaimed her position at the edge of the berth. It would be easier if she was willing to turn inward, so her wings could hang off the side, but she was clearly in no mood to face Roadstead. He didn't mind, long used to sharing his berth, and this one was larger than normal, made for sharing. He stayed online until she relaxed in the distinctive matter of a recharging mech or femme, and then he let himself go as well, Metrodash at his side.

Peaceful recharge was broken early with a piercing scream. Roadstead was online and aiming one null-ray at the door. A click later, he woke up fully and realized that it was just the femme screaming. "Well, that's just a lovely way to wake up. Stand down, Metro."

The femme was still screaming, until Roadstead walked over and hit her, hard enough to knock her to the berth again. "Shut it! I just had a battle, was finally coming off of the battle-ready, and you go and trigger it again and _shut up_, glitch!"

Silence was almost deafening, especially to battle-revved systems. Amber looked up, a _vulnerability_ in her red optics that Roadstead _hated_, found utterly abhorrent. She looked like she wanted to cry, just from one blow. "I am a branded, battle-tried Decepticon. Don't wake me up by screaming again," he said, hoping to avoid her breakdown.

It seemed it would work, for a while. She still looked weak, but a guard had come up, and he didn't think she would cry. "What... what do you mean by that?" she asked, voice shaking. "I mean. You've mentioned being... branded..." her gaze darted to the sigils Roadstead bore proudly. "And he did too. Er... Metrodash did."

His wings were in full flair, Roadstead knew, and it would get tiresome eventually, but not for a while. "Not every Decepticon is branded. Most just have Megatron's symbol painted on. They're free to leave, to refuse... It takes work and dedication to even be offered the brand." He had worked hard...

Reaching over, the brown Seeker touched one purple face. It almost seemed to shimmer against his brown, though he noted idly that he needed a polish soon. "This will never come off. If I paint over it, it'll just shine though again. It changed my very programming, my optics, and would have killed me had I not meant my oath. Should Megatron lose the war, the painted ones can run, can hide and change sides, but I never can. I will never stop fighting for and upholding his ideals, the Decepticon ideals I swore myself to.

"That is what I mean by being branded."

He glanced at Metrodash, and sneered a little. "That was what my pet was willing to toy with... But he'll never do that again. Will you, Metrodash, my little ground-pounder?"

The grounder looked down with a real flush of shame. Roadstead normally overlooked what he had really _done_ on the orn they met. "No, master. I will never betray you, or our oath. ...I meant it..." Barely, they both know, but the word is unsaid.

Amber was cringing away from him, Roadstead noticed belatedly. He found that he couldn't care. Just because he _had_ been human didn't mean he still was, and she couldn't start to expect OCs to be... soft. Maybe the Autobot OCs were, but... They weren't on the Autobot side.

After a moment, though, he was able to drop his wings to a more neutral position, and reach out a hand to her. "I'm not going to be unfair. It's not the rules you're used to, or the standards you're used to, but I will be fair. When I hurt you, I'll tell you why. When you do well, I'll tell you that as well." He'd reward her, but he wasn't sure how to. He couldn't offer her a frag like his lovely Sunrain had.

"Come on. Right now you need fuel. I think you'll like energon. Most do. And... Oh, I should give you the download first. It's like running a program on your computer- er. Did you have a computer? What year did you come from?"

"Um. Duh I had a computer. It was, like, 2000. How could I not have a computer, I read fanfic." The look Amber gave him, coupled with the _sense_ she was making, was enough to make Roadstead's wings drop in utter embarrassment.

"That... yeah. So, it's a lot like that. Here, give me your arm." The cable he pulls out is just a simple one, made for downloads and nothing more. Amber hesitated nonetheless, so Roadstead pushed. "Give me your arm, or I will have to chase you down." He would be able to force the download, but it would be useless if she didn't choose to run the file. Shockwave would have been able to force her to run it, but Roadstead was pretty bad at hacking.

Huffing, wings also going down, Amber held out her arm, and she managed not to flinch when Roadstead plugged the cable in. The download didn't actually take very long, data transferring rapidly for all it was a large file. "Give permission when the query comes up. It'll feel a little weird." Being technological like this was one of the largest things an OC had to adjust to. Thankfully, because of programming, it was natural as long as they didn't _think_ too much about it.

After a few moments, Amber looked up. "I... think I'm done?"

"Well, let's find out," Roadstead answered, in the language which was now much more natural to him. He had been using it far longer than he had ever used English, after all, and it carried so much more meaning...

"Understand me? Ready to get fuel?"

"Oh. Um. Yeah..." Amber answered, seeming to be distracted. Roadstead knew it was just the shock of a new language.

_It didn't even sound the same, and yet he understood it. Understood the nuance, the layers of meaning, the shades of connotation which colored words. He looked up at Sunrain, and shivered as he thought the name. The designation... What had been pretty in English was beautiful in Cybertrionian, and spoke of the way the light shown through the rain, refracting and sparkling, so full of life and hope... He was seeing an Earthian 'sunrain'. His own memories where what the program had used to build his new vocabulary. He wondered for a moment if Sunrain was as pretty on the green and yellow Seeker's native planet._

He gave her a few moments to adjust, playing his own memories softly. It was good to remember what he had been through. He only gave a klick or two, though. "Come on. You'll like the fuel. And things will probably make more sense to you this way."

"Things are... very different..." the femme said, looking around as though she expected her vision to have changed. Then again, maybe it had in a manner of speaking, since she was getting new names for everything. She looked at Metrodash, and her optics suddenly went very wide and she jumped a little. It couldn't be his name... maybe she was reacting to the meanings 'pet' carried now.

Roadstead took her arm, pulling the larger femme out of the room. "Come on, I said. Things are different, I know. You'll adjust."

Slowly, she followed him, though Roadstead knew that Amber was looking everywhere she could as they walked down the road through the base. They only made it part way before she broke the silence. "This is... Earth, right? But... nothing- I mean, no-one quite looks like what I expected. The- your- ah, our Seeker-frame is... it's more like Armada, but that's not right either..."

"There's there's almost nothing Armada about our frame, other than that it's similar to the G1. You're picking up on the Animated influence- oh. I guess you wouldn't know about that... Well, don't worry, most of the fandom's 'verses have be re-created by us. There's... I don't even know how many OCs there are. We all worked together... the canons helped. Some of us got a little obsessed... well." Roadstead twitched a wing. "Yes. This is Earth. We've been here about fifty years... We try not to kill humans, which might be our, the OCs', influence. But then, I don't think Megatron would have ever put forth an _effort_ to kill another sentient race. He's not that sort."

"He's... not...?" Amber asked, looking rather confused. "I mean, he does in... well, you know..."

"G1 does little to show the expanse of the empire," Roadstead said. "We're... big. Interplanetary big. We have at least thirteen planets that I know of, and dozens of allies. And we're successfully arrayed against the Autobots with their twenty eight planets, and allies. I have no idea how they have so many..."

"...Empire?" Amber echoed, as though it were an unfamiliar word. "But that's... so many... You'd have to have... thousands. ...Millions..."

"Billions, actually. Our sparking-rate might be very low, but our lifespan is nearly unlimited, and the war is... less deadly than Earthian wars. Point was, Megatron knows how to make nice with other races, and other organic races."

Amber was silent for a moment, but spoke again before they entered the common room/mess hall. "What about the fact that humans, at least the ones _I_ know, prefer Autobots? We- ...they... don't like to be taken over and made to join an empire, you know."

Roadstead was silent for a moment, smiling just a little. She was so young... "You're wrong, you know. Humans are pack creatures, and short-lived. After a couple of generations, they'll be used to it, and most will feel little loyalty to 'long dead' nations. It's not like the Decepticon Empire is a bad place to be. We're more individualistic than the Autobots."

"Um. What?" The femme seemed flatly disbelieving, and followed him into the building. Roadstead kept her close as he gathered their energon.

"I'll use you as an example," Roadstead explained as he lead them to a table. He wasn't entirely sure how much she was listening, though. "If you had been taken by the Autobots, the first thing they would have done would be..." He looked away, wings twitching unhappily. Nothing for it, though... and who knew if she would even understand.

"They would take your wings. Format your into a grounder's chassis whether you want or not."

Much to Roadstead's surprise, and silent gratitude to the twin gods, Amber got it. Her optics opened wider and her wings flared up. Even with the hideous colors, the gesture was familiar and comforting, and he had hope that, even if she wasn't a Seeker, she was actually a flier spark.

"They do what? They force- but- why?"

"Haven't even flown, and you know it's a terrible thing for them to do..." Roadstead smiled, a little proud. "There's hope for you. I was worried."

Amber flushed, looking at the cube of energon before her. She didn't look willing to try it yet, so Roadstead showed by example, taking a hearty swig. "But you didn't say why. They have fliers, they have the Aerials and Skyfire and-"

"And those are all canons," Roadstead interrupted. "They do not have any OC fliers. By force." He gave a wing-twitch shrug. "In general, fliers are a little head-strong, wild. We don't fit in their 'machine' very well. When a flier's been sparked and raised in their culture, they can handle the constriction... usually. And... some of their first OC fliers were true Seekers. The moment they heard Starscream..." Another shrug.

"He controls you...?" she asked. Roadstead had mentioned that he was their Winglord, but it was clear she didn't quite understand. Explaining wasn't a hardship, though, not really.

"Yes. We don't have the strong trine bonds that fandom favors, but we do have a Winglord, flock-leader... whatever you like to call him. A mech, or femme, with a Seeker's _spark_, not just frame, is... I am incapable of disobeying an order from him. And he doesn't like taking choice like that, so he avoids ordering us."

"...Oh. So... the early... Autobot... fliers, they... And the Autobots didn't... like that. And..."

"Yes." Roadstead smiled again, pleasantly surprised. "It was a bad experience. The Seekers were saved, thankfully, but after that, every flier has been forcefully reformatted. Some are okay, flier in form but not spark. The ones who were fliers in both... ...sometimes the canon fliers bring their OC brethren to us, to keep safe. Sometimes... they can't."

"That... doesn't end well, does it?" Amber asked softly. She made a soft sound at Roadstead's nod, and finally chose to try the energon. The liquid energy made her jerk and stare at the cube.

It was a welcome break in the depressing mood, and Roadstead was able to relax a little, enjoy his morning fuel. He still answered, though. "They suicide. It doesn't happen very often, now..."

"That's... cruel," Amber murmured. And then she straightened, and Roadstead realized what seemed to be coming. It seemed she had not quite realized, or remembered, that being a giant robot was not anything unusual here.

"It's nothing we can stop," Roadstead said, cutting off what seemed to be an impeding rant. "The war is even. We do what we can... We're fighting to win, for... for the freedom to be where each person belongs. This is where it gets tricky."

The distraction worked, and Amber drank more as she puzzled over Roadstead's words. "Freedom to be... where you belong? That... doesn't sound very good..."

"Doesn't, does it?" Roadstead agreed easily, aware that they had an audience. He was being evaluated, and he knew it. He wasn't worried, not about this. It was something which was in his coding, more than others, he believed. "Is this way. Decepticons _and_ Autobots both believe that every mech and femme has a place they belong. Autobots believe it's determined by programming, by where one was sparked. We believe that your place is wherever you can put yourself."

She was still confused, and that was fine. Examples were needed. "Starscream. If he were as treacherous as weak as G1 shows him, he could not stay where he is. He would be torn down and put into a place that he can keep. Or me. My limit is close. I know it is. Knowing ones limits is vital, reaching beyond them leads to pain, death... If I go beyond my limit, take command when I'm not ready, I could lead my whole squad into death." It happened, and that was why killing a commander was not the worst thing that a soldier could do.

"But what if you don't want to reach up? Everyone has to, or you- you end up like Metrodash, just..." Amber tried to verbalize concepts that she was unsure on.

"Metrodash reached too far and pays the price. Preferring to follow, to be under others, is no shame. Look at Soundwave. He's useless without a commander. And his cassettes are worse. Or the Constructicons, they need strong leadership. As long as they know this, it's good. Know yourself, know your limits." Roadstead was not very sympathetic.

"And what if you just don't _want_ to reach?" Amber asked again.

"Then you don't. You stay where you are. There's luxury in promotion, but there's responsibility. If all you want is to survive..." He twitched, holding back a sneer. "No-one starves, unless they refuse to take advantage of the programs. Then again..."

Roadstead smirked, looking around the room. He found matching expressions on his fellow's faceplates. "We believe it goes like this, life does.

"To feel the road is to risk the crash

To know the sky is to risk the fall

To learn the cave is to risk the weight

To taste the waves is to risk the depths

To explore space is to risk the expanse

To be safe is certain death."

He started alone, and quiet, but with every short line, Roadstead got louder, and mechs joined, until the last line was said by nearly the entire room of mechs. The brown Seeker smiled, raising his half-full cube in toast. It wasn't a religious chant, but there was certainly enough fervor in the words. It brought them together...

Amber was silent for a long moment after silence fell, and then nodded slowly. "I... I don't think I can say I get it. B- but I think..." And she shrugged. It was good enough, Roadstead decided. He had reacted more strongly, but then, he hadn't heard the chant until he'd been around for a few more orns.

After another few moments, attention drifted off of the Seeker pair. Amber finish drinking, slowly. She seemed to be enjoying the energon, and Roadstead was willing to allow it. She deserved to know some of the pleasures of this life, as early as she could. There was more that had to be done, though...

"Amber? I have a question. When we're done here, we need a shower. And I'm going to bathe with you, because there's a lot on your frame that's changed. I'm only going to teach you, I promise." He would, because she needed to feel able to trust him, or she wouldn't listen, couldn't learn. "The question is, do you want to use the public wash-racks for this, or are you willing to be in the room again while I'm 'faced in return for a private 'rack." Starscream would probably let him use his washracks...

She looked down, flushing at the information. Roadstead waited in silence. It wasn't like he could change her options! She needed to learn how to clean herself, and this was the only way to do it.

_Sunrain took him to the wash-racks, which were full of fluttering, cooing, and softly aroused Seekers. Everything was highest quality, Sunrain told him, because they wouldn't accept anything else. Sunrain touched him, made him feel good... and stopped when he fell to his knees and sobbed. His teacher held him until Starscream came..._

"I'd... No-one's going to do anything- I mean, t- to me, in the... public wash-racks...?" Amber asked softly, breaking Roadstead from his thoughts.

"Not with me there. We understand that you're in shock..." Later, she would have to learn to guard herself, when to offer... This time, though, she would only have to worry about how to wash herself.

"Then I'll do that. I mean... It's not like we're getting naked. Or like I can... count on having privacy, if you have to... pay for it..." Amber sounded as though she were trying to convince herself more than anything.

It was good enough for Roadstead. "No, we're not getting naked." He nodded a little. Amber was surprising him quite a lot. He wondered when she would break. Everyone broke... They had lost everything, after all. If they didn't let themselves feel that... He didn't want to think about that.

"...Right then." Amber stood, then looked at her empty cube. Roadstead showed her how to pinch a corner and disperse it, then stood as well. The wash-racks weren't that far from the common room.

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><p>I'd really like a review...<p> 


	4. Chapter 3

We've reached part three. Awkward shower is awkward. I still don't own, all that stuff. Enjoy!

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><p>The wash-racks were fairly empty, most mechs having used them after the battle or before fueling. There were still some mechs standing under the shower-heads, mostly grounders. Roadstead missed having a true Seeker barrack here, and determined to make a stop in Vos while he was showing Amber around the empire. He missed his home...<p>

"Wow. This is like... gym showers, or something. It's... not as bad as I expected..." Amber said, looking around. She squeaked a moment later, looking away from a mech who was cleaning off his interface equipment.

"You're still sealed, since you were virgin, so you don't have to worry about that. It's just a matter of keeping everything clean, though. It has to be done, and there's no other place, or a reason not to clean here," Roadstead said.

What Roadstead hadn't told Amber as they crossed the base again was that, in the course of teaching her, he was likely to overload her at least once. It was a function of her form, and was probably unavoidable, even though he did plan to be as 'professional' as he could be. He would have to let her break eventually, as well, but he would prefer to hold that off until she was recolored and they were off planet. There was less patience for Sues than there was for other OCs, but away from those who had seen this... well, she could afford to break then.

"I... see..." Amber murmured, looking at the floor. She allowed herself to be positioned near a faucet, and yelped when Roadstead turned it on cold.

The brown Seeker smirked at her. "It's a _faucet_. You know how to work these. Set the temp." They really did work just the same as a human faucet, because it was a fairly simple and logical way to set things up.

That brought a strangled laugh from Amber, with a slight edge of hysteria, but the femme complied. The water was still cooler than Roadstead liked it, but it wasn't painful and so he was willing to let that go.

"Okay. We usually use our own cloths, and you'll be getting some, don't worry. Here." Subspace was another thing that could cause headaches and full-out processor locks in OCs who thought about it too hard. Roadstead didn't, simply reaching in and pulling out a cloth. "The water already has a mild cleanser in it, so go ahead and start rubbing down, and then I'll point out any place you're missing."

Amber began to do so, a little hesitantly. It was probably the first time she'd really faced how she had changed, and Roadstead was silent for a while, letting the femme work. She avoided her panel area, and wings, and stopped short of her thrusters as well.

"Not bad. Here, lean your back against the wall and I'll show you how to get the thrusters. You also need to get under your seams better, and as long as you're in a Seeker-frame, you will need help to get your back well. You can get the worst of a mess off, but that's not acceptable for long-term," Roadstead said when Amber stopped, then waited for her to comply.

"...Mess?" Amber asked, shivering as her wings contacted the cooler, smooth wall. She didn't fight as Roadstead knelt and lifted one pink and silver and red and gold foot. She shivered again as he started to prod it, working his claw-tips into the joints and thrusters. He was careful, but efficient, and glad that she hadn't really picked up much dirt even after tramping around the battlefield.

Roadstead belatedly remembered he'd been asked something, and shook his head. "Dirt and dust and possibly carbon from shots, and grease and oil... You're fine right now, but that stuff will build up without help, and eventually it'll mess with your flying. Which, I have to take you out for that, too..."

"Oh. I guess it would... umm..." Amber looked at Roadstead, who was patiently working his way up her leg. The sound she made was not entirely in confusion, but Roadstead did his best to ignore that. Thrusters shouldn't be _that_ nice, anyway... "I'm going to get to fly?"

"Of course you are. You're in a flight frame. It'll be a good way to find out just how much of your spark is a flier's, if it is at all." Roadstead checked his work, then put down Amber's foot and stood, pulling her away from the wall. "Wings now. You'll have to get your panel later."

He took the front side of the broad wing first. It was a simple matter to lave the metal clean, rubbing hard enough to flex it slightly. The work was so familiar as to be nearly mindless, even as the metal under Roadstead's hands heated.

"It's the seams you really have to get here," the brown Seeker said as he reached them, lifting Amber's arm for access to the wide armor gap. "This is also where you really don't want to get shot. Even with the armor here..." his fingers grazed it, "the actual gap is big, and more importantly, the systems under it are delicate and vital. You've got a lot of flight systems, and then there's your fuel systems... It's not a good place to get hit. Not that any place really is."

Amber didn't answer, optics a little unfocused and gaze lagging as she tried to follow what Roadstead was doing. He moved to her other wing, and the cool water was starting to steam off her frame before he finished that one. He paused then, because he was trying to be professional.

"You... mm, you tricked me..." Amber muttered after a moment, looking at him. Her optics were darker than they had been, and Roadstead knew that she was aroused. He shook his head.

"No. Arousal is unavoidable in your frame. You're also not used to it, so it seems worse than it is. I'm not going to do anything more than finish teaching you, and if you overload from that, I won't even tease." It would be best for her if she were _not_ ashamed of her reactions, after all.

"You should have warned me."

"It's less when you wash yourself. You didn't ask what effects this might have on you, and I have no obligation to warn. Relax. You'll be left alone for now, and we won't be here long." As Roadstead spoke, he turned her around, thought he stopped before trapping her against the wall. That might make her panic, so it would be better to risk falling, he thought.

There was not really much he could teach about this, though. He showed Amber the back-sponges, but didn't let her use them, because they really weren't very good. "Helios need help for this too, usually. Their rotor-arrays make blind scrubbing even more chancy, so most don't even bother." As he spoke, he dug into the cables, making sure everything was as it should be. He wasn't surprised that they were. Coding was messed up from translation, but the frames OCs started in were usually near-perfect.

Amber didn't seem to really be in any condition to listen. She was mewling, twitching away from him and into him. Roadstead knew it was a fight between her body and mind, and tried to respect her desires. It was very odd, cleaning a Seeker-frame who did _not_ want to be pleasured.

The femme was still trembling when Roadstead finished, and he knew everyone in the wash-racks was watching. Most of the original mechs had stayed when they saw him come in, and more had followed, from curiosity or a genuine need to bathe as well. It didn't matter, though... "Amber. I'm done. You might want to turn the water colder so you don't overheat if you plan to let your charge fade instead of releasing it."

Her response was to spread her wings, not the best of ideas as they shook from want. She was probably trying to intimidating him, either mimicking what he had done or her coding acting on her emotional state. Either way, it increased the surface area for the water to stream down. Amber glared at him the entire time her chassis cooled, and Roadstead just watched her in return.

About the time Amber's wings stopped shivering, she looked away. Roadstead gave her a few more moments, and then turned off the water and pulled her over to the dry racks. Moving air and a towel would dry her... and might restart the whole probably again. It would depend on how reactive she was to air.

"So what's... the whole deal with, um. Starscream, and... He can command you- er, Seekers, um, you said... those with a Seeker... spark? But you're not sure I... am?" Amber asked, apparently trying to distract herself from the process.

"He doesn't simply order to test because he doesn't really like to," Roadstead answered, preempting the actual question. "In my case, he was angry because I was sobbing like some gormless sparkling. Anyway, the question is much less whether or not you're a Seeker and more whether or not you're a flier at all. There's no harm in letting you wear our frame while we figure that out. You are getting repainted, though. Think about colors." Amber listened, though her wings were shaking again by the time she was dry. That was very likely to cause problems later, just from running so hot.

She was also giving him a bit of a hard look. Roadstead wasn't sure why the femme was looking at him as though he had insulted her... "But you got angry when I had problems, and you did the same thing, and-"

Oh. Well, maybe that was an insult... Roadstead shrugged a little. "I never said I didn't. And I said Starscream was mad at me, so there. You acted like I did, I acted like he did. I told you, we're not the soft side. ...Come on. Let's see if flying makes you feel better. Metro' is filling out the paperwork requesting leave and transport around the empire."

Slowly, Amber softened, reaching to take the hand that Roadstead was offering. They only went a few steps into the main square, and then Roadstead pulled her close and took off. She was heavier than another Seeker, because of the Sue backstory, but Roadstead was built for endurance more than speed, and was able to carry her.

Not that doing so helped Amber to fly. "Turn on your thrusters. You have the form and the coding. _Fly_." Roadstead does not add that if she hasn't started to lift herself in a couple thousand feet, he'll drop her. That would needlessly frighten her.

_He fell, for a moment, looking up at Sunrain in shock. And then every instinct he had, everything which had caused his dreams all his life, came rushing to the fore. The wind buffeted him, thrusters engaged, and he flew, playing with the air as though it were an old friend. There is a flash of green and yellow, __and then Sunrain was playing with him._

Roadstead shook his head, clearing away the memory. He couldn't play until he was sure that Amber could, or at the least until he knew she wouldn't fall out of the sky. She still hadn't followed his advice, though. She was looking around, or at her own wings... Roadstead huffed, going higher. He wanted to have time to catch her if he had to drop her.

If she did very badly, if flight was an anathema to her... Roadstead wasn't sure what he would do. It was standard to just remove the frame's wings until a full reformat could be obtained, but he wasn't sure he would be able to teach her like he had been charged to when she looked like that. But then, it wouldn't be his fault, and Starscream would understand-

Worries were broken by the sound and feel of another thruster, and then Amber was pulling away from him. She was taking to the air on her own, and Roadstead relaxed. She had very little instinctive grace, the playfulness which marked a Seeker-spark finally coming home to the winds, but she was flying, trusting her instruments. She would keep her wings, and when she was reformatted, it would be to another of the flying forms.

It was less than a full orn later that they were on a small ship. Optimus had commed them as they took off, first asking how the new OC was doing, and then promising that his records showed no interplanetary activity. The Earth-assigned Prime would be in trouble if the deception was discovered, but that would mean Roadstead had been captured, and the Seeker wasn't about to let _that_ happen.

Amber, now a pale blue and lovely deep violet, had only just left the window, though she still sat within easy view of it. Roadstead understood. Every OC on the Nemesis had wanted to look at Earth when they found it, and most had been allowed to. Unlike most continuities, the Decepticon flagship hadn't been crashing...

"That's not... even my home, is it? Even if I looked... nothing's the same, is it?" Amber asked, looking at Roadstead.

"No, it's not. I never even tried to look... And this is at least sixty years after the time you know. You'll find a new home. You'll have all the opportunities you grew up with. In time, you'll have lived here so long that your memories of humanity are archived. Faded..."

"I still lived with my parents. I didn't have a boyfriend... my younger sister did." Amber didn't answer Roadstead, but it wasn't needed. He had been expecting this for days, and counted himself lucky that they had indeed got off-planet before it happened. "They all teased me. About liking such an old show, about what I wrote... about how Megatron wasn't real."

"You still miss them. And part of you feels glad that you're right and they were wrong. Glad that you won't have to listen to them again. But you feel bad for feeling that way, and you really _do_ miss them..." Emotions were _never_ logical.

"...Can I be alone for a while...?" The question was soft. Roadstead didn't look at Amber, twitching a wing in the direction of the door.

"There's rooms back there. One for Metrodash and I, and you can have the other if you want. If you find you can't recharge alone, let me know." She trusted him, by now, to not make moves on her. He found her much more attractive in her new colors, and he was still trying to convince her that interfacing was just pleasure, but like any other Decepticon, he respected the fact that she said 'no' quite firmly and regularly.

They were well away from the Sol system, and just entering transwarp space, when Amber came out of the room she had claimed. Her face was flushed, and the metal around her optics was marked where she had rubbed it, even though their forms couldn't make actual tears. Her vents still caught unevenly, causing an occasional sob, but it was clear she didn't want to talk about it. Roadstead politely ignored the signs, nodding at her.

"We're currently en route to Ijurn, a Decepticon planet on the edge of the empire. It's one of the closer ones, which is why we're going there and not, say, Zarak... There are some humanoid organics, so you can see how that goes, too." The natives of Ijurn were not really that close to human, more like a kind of intelligent, upright deer. They would still reassure Amber that the Decepticons weren't cruel to those in their empire.

"When will we be there?" Amber asked, vocalizer just a little hoarse.

"A few orns. We use local time on a neutral planet, but within the empire we return to Standard. Ijurn's natives use their local times, because they're adapted to it, but we won't be dealing too much with them. They like to keep private," Roadstead answered.

"So... It's going to take us more than a _month _to get there?" Amber asked. Roadstead was pleased that she actually knew how long an orn was, and remembered it.

"Yup. This also means we have most of a week to talk before recharging near the end of the orn." He grinned, expression slightly feral, before softening again. "I'm not really going to make you go right from days to orns. It would be the Pit on us both. We'll be using the trip to adjust, though, so by the time we reach Ijurn, we'll be on standard time."

Amber shook her head a little, looking at the abstract trans-warp space outside the cabin window. "I can't really imagine being ...awake so long, or sleeping so long... How long is this whole 'tour' going to take?"

"Maybe a few groons. I'll be away from the front for years... I know. You adjust to it, though. We're made for it. It's easier on us in every way... You just have to see it. Don't worry right now." He was rather looking forward to the vacation, even with Amber around, and the return to his chassis' normal rhythms. He'd have to visit Sunrain, too... and maybe he could even see Shockwave...

"Anyway! Right now, you need to learn history. Our history is similar to what you know, but it's the differences that trip everyone up. After all, in the fan-canon, we, OCs as a cultural phenomenon, don't exist."

Amber nodded, already aware of that. Even though self-insertion and human-turned-TF were two of the most common plotlines in the old fandom, they were always unique occurrences. "This 'verse didn't even start as... like, 'pure' G1 or... what did you say, Animated or anything, so... That would change things too..."

"Yup!" Roadstead agreed, grinning again. "It changes things a lot. Let's see... 'Cons and 'Bots were one nation once. That's the same always. And there was a bit of an interplanetary- well, interstellar, really, nation. Then problems started coming up. Different planets got different cultures, and the sides began to... well, specialize more than they had. Travel was still difficult then, so... as near as anyone now can tell, the nation just got to big.

"And that was still okay. Things dissolved, but there wasn't a war, there wasn't a _problem_. One nation had just become many." Roadstead sighed. He wasn't really the best at history, and he knew it. Human or Transformer, he just wasn't interested. He had an idea of the broad sweeps, and some stories about individuals... Well. Amber only needed the broad sweeps right now.

"The problems started when Cybertron first found Kaon. Not the city-state fan-canon puts on Cybertron's surface, but the planet which was in a more-or-less neighboring solar system. As near as well can tell, them actually came in peace, but... culture had divided too much. The nascent Decepticons and the nascent Autobots couldn't stand each other. Frag if I know who threw the first blow- It was probably a Decepticon, because I do know my own people.

"It was a slaughter. One on both sides."

Amber looked startled, but then, she had looked more or less the same way through most of the lesson. "I thought you said they came in peace. Why would you- well, you know, your side... why were they attacked when, I mean, if they just didn't like the culture?"

"Each side thought the other were barbaric, uncivilized brutes. Human wars have been started for less. The point is, not many survived Kaon. Both sides withdrew, but contact continued to be made, and it was almost always violent. As the nations grew, they met the other lost nations, which were either absorbed or conquered or drove one or the other side away... It's the basic state of war."

"So... You're not fighting for... energon, or... um, whatever else?" And Roadstead couldn't blame Amber for her confusion. Every fan-canon verse had them fighting _for_something. Then again, they were made for kids.

"Not really, no. There's the general search for resources, and we each feel our way of life is best, and seek to protect other races from the other side's culture- unless it's _very_ clear that they _would_ do better in it. Like the Insecticons we found once... they're practically made for Autobots. So we avoid them and hope they're deep enough in Decepticon space that the Autobots don't find them. Creepy things, Insecticons."

"They always were- oh. Right, not... they're different." Amber looked down. "So... I guess you don't really know much about the Autobots. How long... How long have we... er, OCs? been... arriving here?"

Roadstead shrugged. "Sometime after the war as such started. Shortly after Megatron took over. The first few... they died. The next one lived long enough for us to realize that it was a programming issue- that is, for the 'cons to realize. I don't know what the story is on the Autobot side. Similar, I think."

"Anyway... coding. Yeah. So, even with that, it took a while for one to actually make it to a medic or programmer and have enough to get fixed. And then she started babbling about canon and TFs and... well, she was a sue, and without any other OCs around, we didn't know how to handle her. Eventually, she... well, torqued off the wrong person. Another OC had come in the mean-time, and... it's been snowballing. It used to be vorns between arrivals. Now... it seems to be only groons."

Amber was silent for a while, and hesitant when she asked, "So... when I came here... That cat, er... Glit? That... wasn't just to be mean or... anything?"

Roadstead shook his head softly. "No. That was a code check. OCs rarely come through with _bad_ coding now, but it's still very _messy_. Glit probably cleaned it up a little, and made sure that nothing was missing. Whatever's doing this does seem to be learning, but it's still best to be safe when it's possible."

The femme answered sooner this time. "And... Shockwave did yours...? You kind of made it sound that way..."

"Yup. He did, and then 'faced me into the berth. Left my seals, if I'd had 'em, to Sunrain, though... I'm guessing you don't really want to hear about that, do you?" She would have to hear some time. It wasn't healthy to be unaware of what your own body could do and feel. But they still had a little time, and her world view had to be crumbling by now.

And it certainly wasn't like he couldn't afford to be patient. He had already taken part in missions which had been _planned _for longer than a human lifetime. Amber still had a human's understanding of time.

"So what you did to me in the shower was interfacing? Even after you said you wouldn't?" Amber asked, somewhat angrily.

"That was to interfacing what a hand-job is to sex. Especially because I didn't make you overload. Generally, pleasure isn't considered interfacing unless genitals or sparks are involved. Even if the pleasure leads to overload-"

"I don't want to hear any more," Amber interrupted, standing. Roadstead made no effort to stop her as she walked out of the bridge.


	5. Chapter 4

We reach the new planet! Sorry this chapter took so long... I update more often at my dA or Livejournal. Search for Akzeal at deviantArt if you want to see my stuff there. Also, younglings!

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><p>The next few orns went just as Roadstead had said. He and Metrodash changed their schedule easily enough, and Amber had little choice but to follow them. The femme was still angry with Roadstead, and so they were all rather happy to reach Ijurn. Their craft was small enough to land, but Roadstead had them in an orbit for now, because there were still some things Amber needed to learn. He had been lazy, avoiding her and not telling her sooner.<p>

"It... looks like Earth..." Amber murmured, looking at the planet outside the window. "I didn't expect it to look so... similar."

Roadstead could see many differences between Ijurn and Earth. The atmosphere was different, Ijurn was much more built up, and the water was greener... He didn't mention any of these things. It looked more like Earth than Mars did, or even Chaar. "We'll be going down in a bit. But there's some basic rules you should know. Feel like listening to them?"

Red optics, so like his own, met his, and then Amber nodded. "I guess I should. About going to Ijurn?"

"Yes. Some basic things you should know... not just about Ijurn, actually. Basics about Decepticon society that I've been, frankly, too lazy to bring up before." The brown Seeker _was_ abashed, but he tried to hide it.

"You mean something beside the fact that you're all sex-crazed?" Amber asked. "I've been watching the shows, you know... Everything but the kids shows have sex- interfacing, right there without warning...!"

"It's all story appropriate," Roadstead pointed out. "But yes, something other than the fact that interfacing is an acknowledged aspect of our lives." It was rather pervasive, though, he had to admit. He'd been told he adjusted so fast because his Seeker-spark predisposed him to be open about interfacing. "Actually, you'll find it's not as prevalent in shows which are aimed at those not on active duty. Which brings us to the other issue."

He pinged a file to her. "That's your ID. You won't really be alone, so it doesn't matter, but you might as well have it. And yes, I'm sure you're noticing that the 'rank' field is actually filled out."

Amber nodded, gaze slightly unfocused as she looked at the file on her HUD. "It... yeah. Why?"

"Because, technically, you're in the army." Roadstead smirked. "We all are. Every Decepticon adult is. Surprised me, too... it surprises everyone, and the 'bots hate it. But with so many of us armed, it makes sense. If there's an invasion, everyone's expected to fight it off, and those with more rank, like myself or even Metrodash, are both able to get the respect we've earned, and are expected to help keep the peace if we see rules being broken. Part of a youngling's maturity process is learning how to fight... It's like Sparta, without the pederasty and gender divide."

"...Sparta?" Amber asked, confused.

Roadstead huffed. "Never mind. You'll figure it out as we go on."

"So... does this mean that I should learn the ranks and... stuff...?"

"You can learn those by looking them up. Right now, we're close enough to a planets with a info-net up, so you need to learn to query-ping. You could query-ping me directly, but it's more polite ping the net. If there is no net, then you can ping a mech or femme directly. I want you to ping the info-net for my ID."

Amber nodded a little, then shrugged. "How do I... ping, then?"

"It's more or less right there on the HUD. You'll find ping, then have the option of who or what you'll ping, and then why. As you get more used to it, you'll be able to do a simple ping in less than an astrosecond," Roadstead answered. A moment later he huffed a little. "I said to ping the info-net... Not me."

"Oops... Er. Did I do the rest right?" Amber asked, looking abashed.

Roadstead checked, then moved his wings approvingly. "You did. If you'd pinged the net like I said, though, you'd get an automatic response. I'd have to actively respond, which is why it's more polite to use the info-net."

From her focus, Amber seemed to be trying again, and then she flinched. A moment later she was looking at Roadstead. "Why do you have your birthday on your ID...?"

"Because I could. I updated it... shortly after we found Earth."

"...Oh. And... translation date... that's when you came here? And joining..." She went on about the various fields, seeming rather stunned by what she had done. Then came, "Could I ping for other mech's IDs?"

He was pretty sure where that was coming from. "Yes. They won't notice, either. And they don't have to be on the planet. So yes, you can look at Megatron's ID if you want. And yes, he does have one."

Amber stared at him, and then laughed. "I think I won't. I dunno, it would be... weird. Um... how did you update your ID? I guess there would be a bureau somewhere...?"

"Not exactly. I took the file, edited it, attached my proof, and the uploaded it to the data-base technicians. They're the ones who actually updated it... and it's time to explain back-coding. And you won't let me into your systems to show you... So." Roadstead sent one of his copies of the ID file, which he had modified so it no longer carried the official codes. "Tell me when you can tell the difference between those."

That bought Roadstead some silence, and he pulled Metrodash to him when the grounder came in carrying energon. He had been ignoring his pet... Even though Metrodash would never complain, it still wasn't really right to ignore him so much. "I'll make this up to you. And don't say there's nothing to make up," the Seeker murmured, nuzzling Metrodash before letting him go.

It was almost a joor later that Amber finally shook herself and focused on the outside world. "I think I found it. Um... Could I have an... unapproved? ID from Metrodash as well, so I can check?" Her voice wavered a little as she said his name, the femme still uncomfortable with his position.

"Sure!" the red mech answered, sending one easily enough. He knew what Roadstead was doing, and it didn't cost anything to send one.

There was another couple breems of silence, and then Amber nodded. "Got it. ...So... I didn't make mine, clearly..."

"I did. With a note saying to verify with Starscream. He told them I had the authority to make this, and update it for a groon. By then, you'll have records and know enough to take over your own updating. And if you _don't_ update, anything there's records of will be updated automatically. It's a good idea to check your ID regularly, by the way."

"Okay. ...should I be worried about you making my ID...?"

Roadstead looked at Amber unsurely, and then realized that she seemed to be making a joke. He hadn't realized she had forgiven him enough to feel friendly. "If I put something false, it'll be caught. If I abuse my authority... I'll be caught. I'm being watched- you've turned into a test for me. And a chance to go back home, so that's always welcome."

Amber bit at her derma, then nodded. "Okay. ...How do I get this info if I don't have a name?"

"That's when you query-ping a mech directly. Most have their automated responses include their designation. And they probably won't notice. While we're kind of on the topic, too, name refers to human name. Designation is what mechs use. You haven't chosen a designation, so you go by your name still."

"Like this?" Amber asked. Roadstead had to check his logs to be sure that she actually had pinged him.

"Yes, like that. Now, last thing. You're the lowest rank. Most of the mechs on the surface are as well, and effectively everyone acts like civilians. You'll only really need to check if you're contesting an order. Again, you'll learn that while I'm with you, that's the point of this. Do keep a look out for brand, verses just paint. A brand will always outrank you, keep that in mind."

"Okay. Is there anything else?" Amber asked, looking out the window again. It was rather clear that she wanted to go down there... Roadstead didn't blame her. He wanted to fly, personally.

"Nothing that has to be handled up here. Let's land."

Ijurn was typical of most organic planets, even as part of the Empire. Roadstead and Amber were quite firmly in the Decepticon city, with only their large buildings and wide roads around them, and yet there were still plants. Trees and grass and vines of all sorts grew wherever they could, and like most lifeforms, they were very opportunistic.

They were also very different colors than what was on earth. The sky was more of a green than a blue, though the sun was still yellow. The plants were a little closer to blue, with brilliant flowers of every hue. Amber was looking around, entranced, and Roadstead was willing to go slowly. This was her first time on a foreign planet, and he remembered his own first time. That had been New Kaon...

_There were crystals everywhere, red and gold and white and yellow and purple and blue and colors he hadn't realized existed before now. The houses and buildings almost disappeared against the growths, until he realized the silver was mostly construction, bright and cared for and covered in art. He looked up in shock, and then flinched backwards when a dark green and yellow form approached him. A dark green and yellow Seeker... And he realized something was 'wrong'._

"Hey, look! Seekers!" a voice called, breaking Roadstead out of his memories. He looked around, then saw the small frames running towards them. Sparklings... well, younglings, it looked like, they were too big to be sparklings.

Roadstead stopped, and allowed the younglings to come as close as they wanted. They stopped quite close, and looked up with big red optics until one spoke. It was the same one who had called out earlier, and he seemed to be the ringleader. Probably a tank-form, if the turret on his back was to be trusted...

"You are Seekers, right? Are you busy, we wanna talk, can we talk?" he asked.

"Yes, we are," Roadstead answered, grinning. He had forgotten how energetic younglings were...

The other four younglings cheered, reaching for the Seekers in an effort to pull them somewhere. Roadstead allowed it, while Amber tried to hide behind him. He had no particular desire to stand in the road while answering youngling questions, however, and so reached back and helped the little in their goal of moving the femme.

They didn't go far, just to the park that the younglings had likely been playing in before they had seen the Seekers. Once there, the younglings simple sat on the ground. After glancing around, Roadstead did likewise, deciding the benches were too far away. They all had backs, anyway, which wasn't comfortable for fliers.

"So, what do you want to know?" Roadstead asked after almost a breem. The younglings were just looking at him, and to be perfectly honest, it was slightly creepy, especially considering their earlier enthusiasm.

"Dun wanna be rude," the leader answered, squirming.

"Don't worry," Roadstead comforted. "If you're rude, I'll tell you. I won't get angry." He'd had practice enough in _that_ since Amber was translated!

The tank-youngling nodded, and then grinned in a manner which was strikingly reminiscent of a sharkticon. "We don't got many Seekers here, least not in our neighborhood. So is it true what they say about wings?"

"That would depend on just what they say about wings," Roadstead answered, ignoring Amber's confused flutter. "I can think of about five things that I've heard about our wings. So you'll have to be more specific."

Three of the younglings, arms wrapped around each other, drew back with a low sound of awe at Roadstead's easy answer. If he had to guess, they had also heard that Seekers were touchy and didn't like talking about themselves. It was true in some cases, but he knew that these younglings didn't mean any harm. It was best that they have facts.

"That they're sensitive and that you'll go insane if you don't fly and that you'll overload if anyone ever touches them so you never ever let anyone," the spokes-mech said. Amber huffed at the mention of overloads, and Roadstead grinned wider.

"That's something like three questions, little. Okay then, from the top... Yes, our wings are sensitive. We use them to get information about the air, currents and temperature and pressure and all these little things that are useful when we fly. Touching them does not make us overload... immediately." Roadstead turned to Amber, stroking one broad blue and purple wing. "See?"

Amber pulled away and glared at him. "What are you doing? I'm not a demonstration! I-" The femme cut herself off, glancing at the littles, and Roadstead knew he would have to explain about them later.

"No, you're not a demonstration, Amber. But you weren't making any effort to go for mine," Roadstead agreed. His words seemed to placate the femme, and he turned back to the wide-opticked younglings. "As you saw. They're not that sensitive, but they are an intimate area. You can touch with permission, but not otherwise." And it was rather easy to get that permission, but the younglings didn't quite need to know that yet!

"What about the flying?" the tank insisted. "I like to shoot things, but I wouldn't go insane if I didn't shoot."

Roadstead shook his head, wings twitching in negation. "No, you would. It would just take a while. It's... pretty quick in Seekers. A vorn is usually enough to do it... and yes, we can go quite violently insane. It almost never happens in the Empire, though, because Megatron and Starscream don't let it."

"Oooh... I thought that was just made up for the show!" a new youngling said, a green one who might be a cycle.

"Show? Noo... it's true. Are all your questions from this show?" Roadstead asked.

"Yes!" the cycle answered again, nodding. "It's called Wings and War, it's on almost every orn! Only things are weird, there's no empire and- oh yeah, are Seekers really, um, trines and things, because I don't think so, but Hardknock says that Starscream has one and-"

"Whoa, whoa. Let me answer!" Roadstead interrupted. He queried the info net about the show, and couldn't hold back a laugh at what he found. "Okay. About the show. Don't you know what AU means?" The younglings shook their heads. "It's an OC fan-verse, littles. From the looks of it, based in the G1 fan-verse... And trines, wow...

"Okay, well. We do and we don't have trines. And this will get a little messy... Some of us have trines. Most want to _find_ trines. But that's like saying that most people want to find mates. You do know what that is, right?"

The tank, Hardknock, huffed. "Of course we do! Most of our creators are mated. Um, not to each other... We're not siblings or anything."

Roadstead held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay! Good. So. Seekers mate in trines. Amber, stop staring at me. Seekers mate in trines, but until we mate, we fly alone. That's why Starscream has a trine. Our Winglord has to have a trine, actually, to- Well. Sorry, littles, but that's Seeker-stuff." He could explain it, there was no rule against it, but it wouldn't make very much sense to them. Even Amber probably wouldn't understand it.

"Aww. But we wanna know!" the cycle whined.

The brown Seeker shook his head, reaching out to bop the youngling on the nose. "No. You're lucky I'm answering anything, don't press, mechling."

He pouted, but the green sparkling did listen and stopped whining. It was one of the other three, still wrapped around each other, who asked the next question. "How do you tell each other apart? Even with colors, there's not that many colors and combinations, so how do you do it? Or are you pinging everyone all the time?"

That was a little rude, but it was also understandable. As a human, Roadstead had started running into that problem, coloring Seekers for fun and realizing how silly some of the combinations were becoming. "That's something I found out when I translated here. Our frames are not identical, though it helps to know what you're looking for."

"Oooh," the trio said, and for the first time Roadstead realized how similar they were. Their colors were completely different, and he was used to seeing minute differences, and so he hadn't realized sooner. They looked to be some form of immobile alt, clean-limbed and slender, and they almost certainly shared a creator. Possibly two creators, creating in threes, and a different third for each of them... No wonder they wanted to know how Seekers handled it.

Smiling gently at them, Roadstead explained himself more fully. "There's at least three different types of Seeker-frames. There's the frame meant for agility, Skywarp's in one of those. They're lightly armored, and their armor-gaps are wider to give them more motion. Then there's Starscream's frame-type, built for speed. Their armor is also thin, and the joints are smaller, so they're sleek, cutting through the air so fast you can't see them. Then you have ones like Thundercracker and myself. We're meant to endure. My armor's a little heavier, and my joints are pretty narrow. I can fly for orns, if I have to, and never touch the ground. Most grounders can't even see the differences.

"Then there's the ones that are similar, but more noticeable. Like Amber here, she's got some shuttle in her, so she's bigger, and better armored than I am. Scouts, too, they're quite a bit smaller, and have all sorts of crazy mods..." Roadstead shrugged. "Does that answer the questions, littles?"

The younglings looked at each other, then nodded. Hardknock answered for them, reclaiming his status as leader. "Yeah. Thank-ya."

Roadstead stood, stretching a little and messaging Amber. -_We're going to give them a treat and fly away. Be ready._- "I'm glad to have helped. And you were all very polite. It's time for us to go fuel, though, so I have to go." He waved, stepped far enough away that he and Amber wouldn't hit the younglings with the backwash from their thrusters, and then took off, accompanied by cheering. Roadstead loved the attention, and did a quick loop before finally leading Amber away.

They only flew far enough to be out of sight, and then Roadstead landed again, grinning. "Now that was fun. So, I'm sure you have questions, Amber."

She didn't land as gracefully as he had, stumbling a couple paces ahead and then turning back to look at him. "Yeah. And I'm going to regret it, I know, but... How _does_, I mean..." She flushed, looking away from the brown Seeker, who just waited. Amber tried again. "Where... where do kids come from, then? I know you... but you never use protection with Metro- or Astrotrain..."

"No... I told you. The worst that will happen with interfacing is a sparkling, and that's hardly a bad thing at all. It takes more than just spike and valve, though... Sparks have to be involved as well, and even then, it's very rare. I told you, our sparking-rate is low. Most of the time, interfacing doesn't even include sparks..." Roadstead shrugged.

"So why don't you and Metrodash have any?" Amber asked.

Roadstead stared a moment, then huffed. "Because I'm not actually merging him! I haven't actually merged anyone but Sunrain and Shockwave! He licks, he plays, he teases... but our sparks have never actually touched." It was quite a deliberate choice on his part. He wanted no risk at all of carrying a grounder's sparkling. Shockwave didn't use spike or valve, so all Roadstead had to do was keep his own pet from merging him, and that wasn't very hard.

"Oh. ...Do you ever want sparklings?"

"Want..." Roadstead had to pause and consider. "Maybe. I'd rather wait until after I find my trine. It's not a driving force for me... I have things I want to do still. I want to get higher in the army. I want to do more."

"Oh..." Amber didn't seem to have an answer and looked away, scuffing at the ground a little. "...You said something about fuel?"

He recognized a subject change when he saw one, but Roadstead let it go. He didn't want to get into it, that simple. "Yes, I did. There's a shop near here which has good reviews. Let's go, then." Roadstead reached a hand out, and waited for Amber to take it before leading her away.


	6. Chapter 5

And here we reach New Kaon, meet Sunrain, and start towards Vos! Have fun, and once again, I don't own TFs.

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><p>They didn't spend that long on Ijurn. There just wasn't really much to see, and so there didn't seem to be a point to it. It really was an unimportant planet, one which only got so much traffic because it was the main connection between the Empire and the current front-line.<p>

After leaving the organic planet behind, Roadstead set course to New Kaon. There was no reason to delay Amber's introduction to a true Transformer planet. There was nothing organic on New Kaon, and never had been, or if there had been, it was back in the forgotten times. It was only crystals and metal... There was wilderness, but it was the sort that might be found on Cybertron itself, metal plains and solvent rivers, mecha-fish and cyberwolves and crystals. The first time Roadstead had seen it, he had thought it looked artificial.

"Wow... The planet is... shining. It's all glimmery," Amber said, looking out the window in amazement. "I can see so many colors from here!"

Roadstead laughed, the sound friendly this time. "I know. It's the crystals you're seeing, mostly, they do come in all colors. This is a metal planet... this is our capital, the center of our empire and spark of the army." It was _home_... "Vos is down there. You might... yes, that system of clouds there, see that light in the middle? That's Vos..." He couldn't hide how happy he was to be back. He wanted to go home so much...

"We're going to Nemmis first, though. There's... a friend I need to greet..."

"A friend...? ...It's not Shockwave, is it?" Amber asked, still very suspicious. Roadstead laughed again, knowing he couldn't entirely blame her. She was still learning.

"He's not a friend. He's a commanding officer. One I've had the privilege of interfacing at times, yes, but still not a friend." Some people, maybe, called Shockwave a friend, but Roadstead was not one of them. The Seeker smiled to take some of the sting out of his words. "We're going to see Sunrain. He's the one who helped me adjust when I translated... He lives in Nemmis instead of Vos, because he- He can fly well enough to get to Vos, but if he went there, he would just... be a semi-crippled Seeker. In Nemmis, though..." Roadstead shrugged. Amber was aware, by now, of just how sought after Seeker-frames were, and how much they liked it.

The femme bit at her lower derma, and Roadstead waited for the question he was sure was coming. "Um... What do you mean... semi-crippled...?" she asked after a while, hesitantly.

Good femme, Roadstead thought to himself, wings fluttering a guilty-distressed pattern as he answered. "We've been rather lucky with you. You translated in a battle, but the Earth-bots are willing to withdraw when that happens. They're... nice, you know. I wasn't... quite so lucky. I didn't translate in battle, but on my tour..."

_An attack. He was frozen, trying to look everywhere, as explosions rocked the ship. He had weapons, but wasn't sure how to use them, and there was a mech looking at him, with blue optics, and new as he was, he could see there was hate in that azure gaze-_

"Those Autobots didn't care that I was new, that I was unused to the world. I can't blame them, it's not like I was a child... I ran, after the first few shots. Sunrain found me... He pushed me out of the when more shots came. One hit him..." Roadstead touched his wing, near his body. "Shattered the support struts and damaged the joints. Medics did what they could, and he can fly- He was a speed model. Mobility would have offlined. He's... not so fast any more. I can outfly him..."

Amber was staring at him in total shock. It wasn't the stunned disbelief she had shown earlier when he told her things... this was different. She knew what he was talking about, trusted that he wasn't exaggerating- And Roadstead realized she was probably going to say something he would have to cut off soon.

"So... He kind of- saved you-"

"Stop." And thank Primus, she did. Roadstead gave a reassuring flutter.

"Maybe." Because Roadstead had to admit, he had a much lower chance of being online if Sunrain hadn't pushed him. "Ever wonder what Metrodash did to become mine? It wasn't what I did, you know. Well, it was, but not like that. He said that I saved his life. Do you see?" He wasn't sure she did...

"But you would have been hit if he hadn't-" Once again, Roadstead cut her off.

"Metrodash _said_ that I saved his life. He _told_ others that he owed me his life."

"But... Now he can't- er, Sunrain? He can't even... Fly as well..." Amber said, seeming to, finally, get what Roadstead was hinting at. Unfortunately, hinting was all he could do, by the culture he embraced.

"No, he can't. But he can fly, and he gets care... and _if_ I owed him anything, one could probably say that making something of myself is better payment."

_He looked at Sunrain, at the Seeker he had only known for a few days- orns. He was nice, friendly... maybe 'too' friendly, but it was good. And now Sunrain, with his beautiful, exuberant name, was shot down, energon seeming to pour out, covering the bright yellow wing. "S- sunrain... Are you- you jumped in front of me..."_

_"It's nothing," his guide said, voice tight in a way that he wouldn't understand for groons. "I'll live."_

_"But you-" And he was cut off, one energon-covered hand covering his derma._

_"No. Don't tie yourself to me. You're going to do things, going to make your name known. I'm... not going to be able to stay in this war. You do that for me."_

"...I... guess..." Amber said, clearly not agreeing. Roadstead put an arm around her, squeezing in a purely comforting manner.

"You're not made for this war. You don't have to fight... But we're still going to visit Sunrain in Nemmis. And maybe you'll find someone who catches your optic, or who's interested in you..." Roadstead changed the subject, and Amber allowed it. They discussed what sort of mech (or femme, but she didn't seem to understand that) she was interested in, what kind of man she had always dreamed of marrying some day.

That conversation held Amber until they landed, and then Roadstead insisted that they fly again. Self-flight was unregulated on the surface of New Kaon, though interplanetary flight was monitored. Flight was one of the things which set Decepticons apart from Autobots, though the correlation wasn't perfect.

Flying, the trip took less than a breem, and Roadstead landed on a balcony smoothly. Amber had trouble following him, but made it without falling, so the brown seeker was content. "Sun'! Sunrain, where are you?" Roadstead asked, tapping on the balcony glass.

A moment later, a resplendent yellow and dark-green Seeker came around one corner and waved. The only still-visible sign of the damage he had taken vorns ago was the slightly stiff way in which he held his right wing, and Sunrain certainly didn't let that bother him as he hurried over and slid the door open.

"Road'! How are you? Didn't bring 'Dash this time? And who's this? Are you trying to tell me something, Roadstead?"

Roadstead stepped in with a respectful dip of his wings, pulling Amber with him. "No, I'm not, Sun'. This is Amber, she just translated and I'm taking her on tour. Metrodash is busy taking our stuff to the compliment housing, because I'm sure Amber will want it." Roadstead had little reason to use the housing provided for visiting, on-order mechs, expecting to stay in Sunrain's home as usual.

"Oh...?" Sunrain looked at the femme, taking in the way she was nearly hiding behind Roadstead, and he nodded. "I see. Pleased to meet you, Amber, and I do hope your adjustment stays smooth. At least I assume it's been smooth..."

"Compared to mine..." Roadstead drawled, earning a laugh from his old mentor. "Naw, she's doing well. Looking for someone willing to take her in... probably reformat her to rotary."

Holding his hands up, Sunrain shook his head. "Now I know you're not saying something with _that_, Road'!"

"I don't... think I'd want a Seeker anyway..." Amber said, softly. "No... offense- I mean, um. But maybe a... er, racer? Or if I'm going to be a rotary..."

"Tank," Sunrain declared. "Racers are almost as flighty as we are, and immature. Rotaries can be fine, but they can also tend to the... harsher side of our culture. Tanks are very loyal, won't let anyone slag you, and you've just _got_ to love their guns." He purred a little, optics going unfocused. "Blight has a nice gun..."

"Normally I'd add Triples to the list, but I'm not sure... Astro' came in while she was there, I'm not sure she's recovered," Roadstead said, going over and poking Sunrain. "And what about this Blight? Is he going to mind me staying?"

Amber looked as though she were trying to hide, even more than she had been. Roadstead couldn't help but notice the glint of interest in her optics at the mention of tanks' general loyalty. It might well be a good match, then.

"Mind? Only if you make him recharge someplace else!" Sunrain answered. "Amber? You okay there?" As he asked, he wrapped an arm around Roadstead. His hand scrabbled against armor until, it seemed, Sunrain remembered that endurance models had tighter seams.

"...You're, talking, and... and um, stuff. You know..." she answered, flushing. "...Tanks are... nice, then? I'll... remember that..."

"Well, something like nice," Roadstead answered. "They tend to be straightforward even by our standards, so don't be surprised when one's first response is to attack something. It's like- oh. You don't know Strika or Lugnut... ...Brawl, then?"

Amber shook her head a little. "He was part of the Combaticons, and they didn't get much screen-time, you know..."

"Ooh, yeah. ...Well, you'll find out." Roadstead flicked his wings, and yelped as one clashed against Sunrain's. That drew another laugh from the yellow and green Seeker, and then Roadstead found himself being pulled down for a kiss.

"...Should I just go, then? Because I've seen this whole... thing. More than enough," Amber broke in, trying to look anywhere but the two Seekers.

Roadstead broke the kiss with some difficulty, lifting his head to look at the pale blue and purple femme. "Do you think you can follow the info-net waypoints? You'll have to ping for my residence, and you'll get a point."

"It's like... following a map? I... can do that..." Amber agreed, though she didn't look entirely sure. She couldn't stay 'in the nest' all the time, though, so Roadstead took her words at face value.

"Off you go, then. I'll tell Metrodash to expect you." Roadstead smiled encouragingly and shooed the femme off until she stepped back off the balcony and took off.

"You really think she'll be okay, Road'?" Sunrain asked, watching Amber's rather shaky path.

"Actually, yeah. I told Metrodash to watch for her and monitor her though the info-net, too." Roadstead grinned, then went back to kissing Sunrain. "So... Shall I keep you occupied while we wait for Blight...?"

Sunrain giggled, pulling Roadstead to a room. "Yes... that sounds just about right."

The orns they spent in Nemmis were quite enjoyable for Roadstead. They were probably less enjoyable for Amber, though the brown Seeker did try to take her out, to let her see the sights and to be seen. Metrodash did the same, accompanying Amber when Roadstead was too busy with Sunrain and Blight, who did indeed have a very nice gun.

Roadstead was not willing to stay in Nemmis for long, though, especially since Sunrain almost seemed to have found someone... _permanent_ in Blight. His old mentor had time for him, but Roadstead knew better than to intrude.

Anyway, there was some place he wanted to take Amber, a place that she wouldn't be able to go without him. Vos was high in the sky, and no-one was allow to go there unless they could reach it on their own power, by their own skill. They didn't _have_ to be fliers to reach Vos, clever grounders with jetpacks were fine and there were stories of stowaways, or mechs using grapplers... It didn't matter. They just needed the skill. Amber had it, if she would trust him

And Roadstead wanted to go home.

"Hey, Amber. I know I've not been spending that much time with you..." But of course he wasn't here to entertain Amber. He was here to teach her, which meant showing her their culture. That he had a pet just meant he could have fun doing it, more fun that another might. And she was learning! She wasn't staring so much when a couple (or more) walked by with an open panel...

"No, you haven't," the femme agreed. She had stopped being quite so polite, too... which was a welcome relief. It was much easier to understand what she wanted or needed when she wasn't obfuscating... As long as she wasn't outright rude, which she hadn't yet been.

Roadstead grinned, somewhat indulgently but also a little hyper. "Well, Metrodash isn't going to be coming with us to the next town. He's not allowed there... He'll be taking the shuttle to Sippar, and we'll meet him there in a few orns. And before that we need to find... I think indigo would match well enough. I need to paint your wings."

Not surprisingly, Amber was instantly on guard, said wings hiking up, though the motion was more fanning than a Seeker's would have been. Her spark was starting to over-write her programming, which was not a surprise. "I know quite enough to know what you're saying there, so just _why_ do you 'need' to paint... _anything_ on me?"

"Because if I don't, every Seeker in Vos will probably be out for you."

"...oh..." And Amber drooped. It was enough to make Roadstead want to go over and soothe her, but he restrained himself. "Damn Seekers... ...or slagging. Whatever. What _is_ it with you and sex?"

"Helps us keep track of where we are in our bodies. And it feels good, so we don't see much reason not to enjoy ourselves," Roadstead answered.

Amber made a face showing just what she thought of _that_ explanation. "So, fine. What are you going to paint to keep them off me?"

"More or less, a note saying, 'stay away'," Roadstead said, in very good humor. "We have old glyphs for that sort of thing... and yes, they are actually used by others, and honored."

"So... I'm not as weird as everyone's been making me feel, for not having- I mean, for still having my- um..." Amber flushed and looked away.

Roadstead shrugged a little and answered truthfully. "A Seeker, or Seeker-frame, with their seals is unusual. Once they're adult... Usually their broken as soon as they find someone willing to teach them. But sometimes a Seeker honestly doesn't feel like interfacing for a few orns, or their mate or master doesn't want them to. In Vos, it's assumed any adult without markings is willing, or willing to be persuaded... ...with some exceptions, of course, and 'no' or 'stop' still have meaning. With the marks, you won't even have to deal with flirting, though."

"That, um... doesn't sound... I mean, what if someone doesn't accept the no and no-one believes it was said...?" Amber asked. Her worry was clear enough, and Roadstead took her seriously, because it _did_ happen sometimes.

"Medics can retrieve the memories of the incident. If a report is made, it's standard to retrieve both, or all, mechs' memories, and review them. If a rape is found to have occurred, the perpetrator is killed, and the victim is given help." There was the chance even then mistakes, of course. Memories could be hacked, could be modified and created and deleted... but it almost always left a trail, and medics were very careful in any such case.

Amber didn't complain after that, going out with Roadstead and letting him pick out paint while her optics flickered now and then in the manner of one reading information off the public data-net. Roadstead guided her without complaint, sure that she was much to distracted to pay more attention even if she _hadn't_ been reading something. Amber had been slow to start turning to the data-net, until she had come across the mock-up Google page some OC had written, freaked out about _being_ the computer, and then became quite happy with having 'The Internet' with her all the time.

Roadstead was quite happy when they returned to the temporary quarters with the paint he had found. The indigo would stand out quite nicely against her pale blue wings, and wouldn't get easily confused with the darker blue of her wing-stripes or with the purple of the painted Decepticon symbol which she still wore.

"Okay. Go to the washracks and get cleaned off, Amber. We don't want any dirt messing up the paint," Roadstead said, shooing her off. While the femme was gone, the brown Seeker had Metrodash help him lay down a tarp and explained what they would be doing.

Amber returned with the gleam of being freshly cleaned, but no sign of any polish. Roadstead ushered her to the middle of the tarp, then pulled out a brush. "Okay. Hold still. This will probably tickle and feel good, I'm sure you expect that, you'll have to tell me if you want me to stop, unless you actually want to overload. You might want to overload, because it will help you fly better and we have some flying ahead of us."

"...I... might think about it..." Amber agreed, though it was pretty clear that even saying that made her unhappy.

"Good enough," Roadstead accepted, hefting a brush.

The marks weren't horribly intricate. Not like some of the other Vossian markings that could be worn... The ones offering the wearer up for anything, Roadstead had seen those and whimpered at the idea of ever painting them or putting them on, they were so very detailed. But these marks were simple, and actually designed to minimize the chance the wearer would overload while they were applied. Amber was still mewling when he finished, her wings shivering and gesturing desire. She glared at him when Roadstead stepped back, but he didn't pay any attention to that.

"Oh, _damn_ it all!" Amber yelled, stomping a pede. "Finish it then, I know you want to!"

"Want to?" Roadstead echoed, putting the brush away for now. "It's not really that I want to. I believe it would be better for you-"

"Shut up and touch me. I've had to put up with you _flaunting_ it all this time!" Amber hissed, and Roadstead flinched a little. She seemed truly angry, though most of it was frustration...

Roadstead nodded and stepped closer, wrapping one arm around the femme's waist. He didn't want her to fall, and he _did_ want her to enjoy this, at least mostly. Roadstead knew what he was doing, knew very well indeed, and so it only took a few touches to have Amber hanging off him. She growled the entire time, and her overload sounded more than a little indignant. She actually sounded rather similar to an earth-feline...

She clung to him for a moment more, and then got her legs under her. "...Happy? ...Maybe you have some points... But I'm not going to start f- facing anyone who asks!" Amber said, not looking at Roadstead.

"I wouldn't expect you to." Roadstead made sure that Amber could stand, and then backed up, looking at her to be sure that she was still presentable. She was, and he smiled in approval. "We'll stay here tonight, and then fuel and fly to Vos in the morning."

Amber still didn't quite look at him as he retreated, went to the berth. Roadstead stayed online until he felt her join him, and then drifted to recharge.

In the morning, Metrodash was already packing away what little they had used, and he waved at the fuel he had brought. "Have fun, then. I'll meet you in Sippar in... a decaorn? ...Please don't take longer than that, I... you know I don't like being alone..."

Roadstead smiled gently at his pet, pulling the red mech against him and rubbing his armor. He really had been ignoring Metrodash lately, and asking more of him... "Don't worry, Metro'. I won't make you wait too long. I'll be missing you in less than a decaorn, I'm sure..."

"...Thank you," Metrodash murmured. He was the first to pull away, and hefted the box he had already packed. "I'll come back for the rest, then."

Amber watched in silence, still very unsure about the whole existence of Metrodash. She fueled after he left, and followed Roadstead outside. The brown Seeker didn't hesitate before taking off, rolling in the sky a little just for the fun of it.

-_This is not the easiest of flights. It's not meant to be, either. I wouldn't be taking you if I didn't believe you could make it, but you're going to have to stay close to me._- He would watch, and send her to intercept Metrodash if she was doing too badly. But again, Seeker 'teenagers' were able to do this flight, and so were helios and many others.

Most of the flight to Vos was easy, a straight shot in clear skies. They were both formed closer to the endurance side, and so there was no problem at all until they reached the clouds which surrounded the city. There were many obstacles in the cloud, deliberately placed and intended to damage, not kill. Sight was limited, but radar worked fine, and following another was also 'legal'. Even if you knew what was coming, the acrobatics were difficult, the wind often working against them, and this was where their model-type worked against them.

Roadstead had to dodge and twist, and pay attention to Amber, and none of it was easy. When they burst out of the clouds, Roadstead was laughing from the sheer high of having succeeded at his task, and of being home...

-_I don't think I want to do that again..._- Amber messaged him, sounding tired. Roadstead dropped to one of the many landing strips, and turned to watch her land, utterly unbothered by the fact that the strip was barely wide enough for both of his feet.

"We're almost there. Just follow me. If you fall here, you have to start at the end of the strip!" Roadstead answered. It wasn't true.

Amber glared a little at him, but was very careful as she followed the careless brown Seeker down the narrow path. He reached back to take her hand as they reached the gate, and turned once they passed the lintel.

"Welcome to Vos."


	7. Chapter 6

Vos! And a little negotiation... None of this belongs to me, enjoy reading.

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><p>At first, Vos didn't look like much. Roadstead was leading Amber though one of tunnels piercing the city's exo-structure, and it let out into what was basically an alley-way. They had landed near the middle of the outer bowl-like structure, and so there was not the immediate vista that would be had higher up. Roadstead had avoided that because that was also where the manufacturing and defense was, and traditional view or not, that wasn't the best introduction to the city.<p>

Vos was made to be seen from the bottom, the buildings and spires and streets catching the optic and drawing it ever up, up and up, all the way to the sky. It was always to the sky...

The clouds which surrounded the city were from its own venting as much as the temperature differential it brought, and there were very few _above_ the city, allowing the stars and the sun to shine freely, depending on the time of orn. It was currently mid-afternoon, and as they drew further from the city-side, the full city could be seen.

Amber stopped a few steps away from the street they were going towards. She twisted around, looking up, and Roadstead had to steady her as she threatened to overbalance. The femme didn't seem to notice, twisting to look at the far side of the city.

"I... expected it to go the other, um... the other way around? I mean... up? Not... um..." Amber motioned downward, where the fancier buildings took up the bottom and center of the city.

Roadstead grinned. "Most do. Here, let's get to one of the observation platforms... We made the city to be beautiful and seen, as well as function. You'll understand more when you see it right, and I can explain better then, too."

That didn't stop Amber from turning and trying to see everything as Roadstead led her by the hand, further away from the wall. The alley had become a full street at the first intersection, but this was still a residential area, with not too many people around. They did pass a small flock of younglings, but the winglets were more interested in playing their game, some knock-off of Quiddich an OC had devised at some point.

He pulled her faster once they neared the main road, which circled the edge of this level. There was a little bazaar on most of the edge-roads, and this one was no different, shops selling energon, candies, trinkets, and doo-dads. Roadstead didn't want Amber distracted until after he had pulled her to the bench which sat very near the edge. If he couldn't fly, he'd be nervous...

"_This_... Is Vos." Sweeping his arm out, he let her look.

The buildings in the center were polished metal, with glass shimmering in the high spires. They were more or less surrounded by water, which fell from the top of the city down the sides in two or three winding paths, the sound enough to be heard through most of Vos, a low and steady undercurrent of sound. Brightly colored Seekers flew from place to place, landing on the balconies which were hard to see at this distance.

And they flew around crystals. Many people had heard of the 'floating gardens' of Vos... but only those who had been there understood. The entire city was the garden, with anti-grav thrusters carefully seeded and tended to produce crystals which were as at home in the air as any Seeker. It was fun to fly around them, and they were carefully spread out in all dimensions to minimize any impediment to traffic. There were chimes with them too, when the crystals themselves didn't chime. The city was really quite noisy, here on the edges and center.

The city was also quite untraversable by grounders. Vos was made for Seekers, and they saw no reason to accommodate those who were trapped on the ground. The only way to get from level to level was by wing, just as flying was the only way to reach the city, or enter the primary business and government buildings.

"...Wow..." Amber murmured, not even noticing as Roadstead pulled her to sit. "This is... wow..." Optics still flickering with her attempt to process everything, the femme turned to look at Roadstead. She only focused on the brown Seeker for a moment, and then her optics were caught by the bazzar behind him.

Or... not, he realized, turning to see as well. There was a little space between two vendors, and wind-chimes did very little to cover the sounds as one Seeker overloaded at another's hands. Roadstead chuckled. "And that's why you have those symbols on your wings."

She looked away, seeming to force herself too. "They shouldn't... I mean..."

"They're not in immediate view. As far as I can see, they're just touching... like I touched you. Maybe elsewhere, in some of the other gardens, the ones that don't float, some couples- or triads, or whatevers, will merge. Or use finger, or hands... well, you know those bits."

"What if those sparklings see?" Amber asked.

Roadstead had expected that, and twitched a wing in a shrug. "And what if they do? They wouldn't see much more than two, or more, adults touching and hugging. We _do_ try to keep anything more less visible, or at least in places younglings are less likely to be. But we don't want them..." He shrugged again. "To be blunt, we don't want them to be like you, thinking pleasure is something wrong..."

"You're hedonists," Amber accused.

"Yeah... And the reputation has caused problems in the army before." Roadstead wouldn't deny the truth. Seekers were hedonists. Flighty, winged, vain creatures who usually cared more for their own pleasure and happiness than anything else...

It was no surprise the Autobots tended to hate them.

They sat there for a while, and then Amber made an odd shaking gesture and stood up. "I'm hungry. Can we get some energon? And... er, where are we going to stay...?"

"Over there," Roadstead answered, motioning to one of the center spires. "I'm branded, so I can use the quarters they set aside for that, and there's room enough for you, too. As for energon, sure. There's a seller there, have at." He stood with her, but let the femme approach the energon seller.

It was clear that Amber didn't know quite how interact with the mech, even though she had seen him buy more than one cube, both on Ijurn and in Nemmis. Apparently she hadn't been paying much attention... Further evidence that she shouldn't get into a fight.

Eventually, the femme managed to order two cubes, only to be flummoxed by payment. Roadstead took mercy on her, sending his information to the shop keeper. "I'm covering it."

The keeper looked up, and proceeded to flutter his wings enticingly. "Is that the only thing you're covering, sir?" he asked politely.

"For the time being," Roadstead answered easily. "You know I have to show her around..."

"You do that, then. Come back if you get... bored," the sells-mech said, handing over the energon and adding another flirty wiggle. Roadstead ignored it. This was Vos, after all. This was normal... this was home.

"He was flirting with you," Amber muttered as they walked away, energon in hand.

Roadstead laughed, nodding. "Yup. It's the brands. They feel different than paint, with those indentations."

"...He didn't flirt with me..." Amber sounded almost hurt.

"Of course not," Roadstead agreed, lifting a hand and tracing the glyphs he had painted on her pale blue wing. "I knew this would happen, you know. I had these myself, the first time I came here..."

Amber stopped, looking at the brown Seeker in surprise. "Y- you did? But- But you _like_ all this stuff. All this interfacing and flirting and- You said this is your _home_, you _belong_ here! Why would you need something like... like these?"

A languid wing-shrug answered her. "It is. I do. _Now_. But I was human once... I had my inhibitions. Less than you did, and I was eager to shed them, but I had them."

"...Do you still think... I mean, you've said things about me not... being sparked a Seeker, but... Do you still think that? I-" Amber bit at her derma, and again her wing-shrug was a matter of lifting them, not twitching them.

"I don't think I want to be _like_ this. I don't-"

Roadstead silenced her with a finger on her derma. "That proves you're not. And that's okay."

"Then why am I still... um. In this frame...?"

"Cheaper for me," Roadstead answered easily. At Amber's confused look, he explained, though he was sure that he had already told her all of this. "You're a flier. My money's on helio. And even if you were a grounder... well, reformats are expensive. You can't afford one. I can, but I don't want to. Which means..." He smirked a little.

"...Means?" Amber asked. She didn't seem happy about the conversation.

"Means you'll have to find someone to sponsor you. And then you'll have to pay him back. Contract terms to be decided- I'm _quite_ sure I've told you about all this. Don't worry about it. You'll not find one here... Right now, you're in Vos. There's mechs who would kill to be here."

Amber twitched uncertainly, then seemed to relax at the _wop wop wop_ of a visiting helio. "So I should shut up and enjoy myself while I'm here, is what you're saying?"

"Yes. That is exactly what I'm saying," Roadstead agreed. "Now... I know it's not your spark's preferred form, but the energon's gone, so let me show you the Flying Garden. Up close." With a flash of light, he dismissed the empty cube and took off, waiting for Amber to join him in the air.

-

They didn't even stay in Vos for a full decaorn, ultimately. Amber was seeming restless, afraid more or less any time she was more than a few steps from Roadstead's side, unless he left her in their rooms. It made it very hard for him to enjoy being home, and wasn't doing much for her socialization, or helping her fit in.

Leaving Vos was much easier than reaching the floating city. The brown Seeker simply took Amber up to the rim, and then they stepped off the edge and flew away. She had gotten much better at flying, at least. She had had too, given Vos' construction. There had been plenty of practice. It took two or three joors of solid flight to reach the outskirts of Sippar, and another half-joor for them to reach the barracks which were open to those with the brand.

Metrodash was not waiting for them, but Roadstead wasn't bothered by that. There was no way the grounder could have known they were coming this orn, after all, and the grounder had his own things to attend to. Sometimes Roadstead wondered what things, but he had never asked his pet. It didn't matter, not enough to bring up. So, the first thing Roadstead did was take Amber to the rooms and put away what little they had carried from Vos, what they had brought and what they had bought.

From there he decided to wait. It was mid-afternoon, and even if Shockwave would be willing to see him now, Roadstead would not get out of the visit what he _wanted_ to get out of it. It would be better to wait, to spend time elsewhere and try, again, to soothe Amber about the society of which she was now a part. Accordingly, the second thing Roadstead did was to take Amber to a bar.

There were many bars available in Sippar, but Roadstead wanted to be careful. Even after Vos, there was a lot that would frighten Amber, like the 'strip' club-slash-brothels which were available. Clubs with loud music and hard high-grade would also frighten her, so ultimately he took her to what was more or less a night-club, with singers and dancing but nothing too over-the-top.

The club wasn't very busy in the middle of the afternoon, and the pair of Seekers were welcome guests. Roadstead was blatantly lounging, listening to the Helio singer. On Earth, the song would be husky, jazzy. Here, it was still 'jazz', but with variations. There were always variations, because human music didn't sound the same to Cybertronian audios, it didn't sound good, and so they had re-made every style, every song they wanted, and then began creating new ones.

She moved, laying against the instruments and crooning, moving her rotors up and down, stroking them at times as needed. It was all very 1940s, as interpreted by giant alien robots, and Roadstead enjoyed it. Amber was watching closely, mouth open and vents working slightly harder than usual, gaze locked on the movements. On the rotors, if Roadstead guessed right.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, a pointless question. Amber wasn't even sipping the mid-high grade they had bought.

Amber's answer was an indistinct sound, a bob of her head and an incorrect twitch of her wings. Roadstead laughed a little, and stayed quiet until the singer was finished and the stage was turned over to a pair of racer-dancers.

"You think you'll like that form?" Roadstead tried again, sipping his own energon. It burned a little, and those who knew said that it tasted as much like whiskey as energon could. He didn't care, never really pining for his human life once he had mourned his friends.

"That form- Oh. Oh, yeah... That's going to be so strange. But, I mean... yes." Amber didn't really seem to be paying attention to him as she spoke. "Did you see how her rotors moved, so graceful... And so much more flexible than these- I mean, not to say anything bad about-"

"Shut up," Roadstead interrupted, but his voice was fond. It didn't hurt him that Amber, helio-spark as she was, was unhappy with her Seeker-frame. He would be happy to hand her off to someone else and let her have her proper form, but there had not yet been the right person. He could afford to wait still.

Amber fell silent with a slightly abashed laugh, and watched the dancers for a while. After a bit, she asked, "So... where are we going after this?"

"After what?" Roadstead asked. "After we're done here, we're going to Shockwave, or at least I am, and since Metro doesn't expect us or know we're home yet, you'll come with me unless you want to try flying home alone. There might be someone in the building who's interested in you, anyway. Or if you meant after Sippar? Nothing. This is the end of your tour."

"Oh... Um, when you say interested..."

"To take you in, Amber. You know that." He wanted to go back to the front... Amber nodded, reassured that he hadn't meant 'for the night', and silence fell again, for a while.

"What will I do, since I'm not willing to... er, pay the way..."

Roadstead chuckled and shrugged. "You can clean. Fetch and carry. Learn a trade. Apprentice work. Care for younglings. Most of the things you might have done on Earth have a counterpoint here. It's not as hard as you seem to fear."

"Oh. ...I might like to care for younglings... Or learn a trade... Don't know about cleaning but... I guess it is something I can do..." Amber was pretty clearly encouraged by his words, and Roadstead wondered how she had failed to notice the variety of jobs on her own. Either way, she understood now, so at least there wouldn't be a problem about it.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching the shows and making the club owner happy by spending credits. Eventually the night-club started to fill up, afternoon cycling into evening, and Roadstead stood. They had whiled away enough time here, and Roadstead didn't want to miss Shockwave. Amber stood with him, following the brown Seeker to the door, and then they took off.

They weren't disturbed on their way through the government buildings, Roadstead going slower than usual so Amber could look around. It was well worth looking. The building was a monument, a fort, and very nearly a city-within-a-city, and they had to land some distance from it. Thanks to the influence of the OCs, this central government complex was known as Darkmount, though it was rather fanciful to call it a 'mount'.

It was only when they approached Shockwave's office that Roadstead realized they were lucky he was in. It was pretty clear he was in, because when they reached the foyer before Shockwave's office there were three other mechs, near identical to each other. It was the lens one bore which gave them away, and he nodded respectfully. Reflector might not be able to fight, but he had still earned his rank.

"Hello, Roadstead," the triplicate voice said, Reflector looking at the Seekers in a way Roadstead didn't really mind. "You will have to wait a little, Shockwave is busy... Who is this?" They were particularly looking at the femme.

It was not a surprise that Shockwave was busy, nor was it a surprise that Reflector knew him- probably even without pinging. The spy liked Seekers, and was visual, finding it as easy to remember who was who by color as Seekers found it. "Her name is Amber," Roadstead answered.

Interest kindled in three pairs of red optics. Roadstead knew what they were thinking. Name, no designation given. That meant Amber was new, and an OC, and it showed. Reflector would wonder how new... "Hello, Amber. How are you liking this life?" they asked, standing and coming closer to the femme.

"Um, I... it's, um... It's very interesting..." Amber answered slowly, looking at the three. Probably, Roadstead thought, wondering who they were. Reflector was not well remembered, even with actual speaking roles in G1. Luckily, the camera chose to be amused by that, and not insulted like some others.

"You have been enjoying yourself...?" Reflector asked, still coming closer, with a very clearly hungry light in their optics.

Roadstead thought he should warn them, though. "She's only Seeker-framed. Probably Helio-sparked." That would also answer their other question, most likely. She still had her seals... and if she had fit in the Seeker-frame, Roadstead was sure that Reflector would try to get her from him. It was almost a pity that she needed reformatting.

"We understand," one of the units answered. Probably the lead one, and while Roadstead knew their individual names, he couldn't remember which was Spectro and which was Spyglass, or which role either took.

"Sure you do..." Roadstead smiled a little, shrugging. He wasn't going to interfere, not really. "Just remember, Amber, you can say no."

That got him a startled look from the femme, and a Reflector unit was sniggering. "Do you think we would not tell her that ourselves? But if you're putting it that way..." the two non-sniggering units said. "We would like pictures..."

"You always do," Roadstead answered, only to get a rude gesture in answer. If the camera had wings, he was sure they would flip him a 'buzz off', and either way, he knew to shut up. He had done his part, and Reflector... well, they might take advantage of Amber, but they would be careful when they did so, and leave her with compensation. She wouldn't, or shouldn't, feel used.

"Er. P- pictures...?" Amber asked, glancing from Roadstead to the three mechs. "Pictures of... what...?" Oh, it was likely she knew what they were alluding to, but she was unwilling to accept it. Reflector would do her good, then.

"Of you." It was probably Spectro, Roadstead did think he was the leader- pinging for ID was useless, they were all set to reply with the Reflector designation.

Amber curled up a little, but only a little. She was learning... "Of me. ...Why?" She could ping them just as well as Roadstead could, and knew the ranks well enough to know where she stood. Reflector's brand alone was enough to show _that_.

Viewfinder answered, lightly tracing the lens he carried. "We like Seekers. It doesn't matter about your spark... We are visual, and care about the frame- Oh, but we wouldn't just take from you...!"

"No, of course not. If you give us the time to take the images... You need to reformat, he said. That's expensive, this can help." Reflector was shameless in getting what they wanted, and Roadstead tuned them out. He was sure that Amber would be going with them... and he was pretty sure that the camera would get everything they wanted from her.

The door opened then, a tank-mech coming out and bidding Shockwave goodbye. Roadstead stood, waving at Amber and Reflector and smiling as neither seemed to notice. They would manage... And in the mean-time, _he_ was hoping to get lucky with Shockwave again.


	8. Chapter 7

Oi. Okay, quick note. Because of 's guides, I skipped a chapter of sex. Now, most of you would want to see that. So! Take out spaces. http: / magni-zeal . livejournal . com / 25997 . html and http: / magni-zeal . livejournal . com / 26159 . html And because I know that's a pain to do, I'll put the links in my profile as well. If you don't read it, the basics are that Road got Shocks, and Reflector convinced Amber, who's a little in shock.

That said, I hope you enjoy. And I -am- working out more fics in this 'verse, too.

* * *

><p>Amber stayed more or less in her room for the next few orns, until Roadstead got tired of it. Oh, he understood <em>what<em> her problem was... He just didn't feel like indulging it.

"It's really past time you stop this, Amber. I know you're in a bit of shock over what you did. And by the way, there's copy of the video waiting for you... So yes, I _do_ know what you did." Roadstead stood in the door-way and looked at the femme, who was idly drawing on a pad. She looked up as he spoke.

"But... After putting up so much of a fight, and I just- and- And I still don't even remember them, except that I looked them up..." Amber answered, a weak and disjointed protest.

Roadstead nodded a little, soothingly. "You feel like you changed so fast and so easily. Like you betrayed yourself? But you didn't. This change was not fast, not on the time-scale you still think in."

Looking up, Amber flickered her optics and her wings in confusion. "It wasn't? But it's only been a few months...?"

"A few _groons_. Each groon is almost two years. Three groons is five years, and five years living with a _Seeker_ and his pet... I'm surprised it took as long as it did. I expected you to crack in Vos..." Roadstead smiled. It was good that Amber had adjusted so easily to the Transformer time-scale, but for this one, he was glad he could say she still thought in the human times. It made it easier...

"...Oh... I guess it... has been a while..." Amber said, musingly. After a moment she nodded, though it was still slow. "And being hired for- I mean, paid... I mean, no-one's going to think... less of me. ...After I reformat, no-one will even recognize me! So..." She gave a small, shy smile. "And it did feel good. They were nice..."

"I'm sure they were," Roadstead agreed, chuckling. "I did tell you they like Seeker-frames, and they're pretty nice mechs anyway. But you still want a tank, don't you? Even if all you do is keep his house clean and other, ah... Snow White slag."

Her smile was still shy as Amber stood, nodding. "Yeah. I still think I'm partial to tanks. They're very, ah... handsome in the shows."

"So let's take you to a place you can meet a few..." Roadstead said, pushing off the door-frame.

Thus began the taking of Amber to various bars and clubs, any place which Roadstead thought, or Metrodash said, there would be unattached tanks, or attached tanks who needed cleaner houses.

The first couple of orns, they got nowhere, which Roadstead had more or less expected. Amber was hesitant, unsure, and hid behind the Seeker. It wasn't until the fourth orn out that she started to approach mechs, and even then Roadstead had to more or less order her to do so. She must have had a terrible social life before translation, he thought.

After a full deca-orn, something happened which Roadstead hadn't expected. A white and yellow tank came up behind Amber when she was trying to get drinks, and, as near as Roadstead could tell, spoke quietly with her.

He wasn't going to complain. As long as the mech understood that Amber was a helio at spark...

For the rest of that night, Roadstead just drank energon and watched Amber talk, and dance, and laugh, with the unknown tank. He wasn't curious enough to ping for his name, though he did wonder if this was what it might feel like to have a sparkling. He tried to push the thought away. He didn't want sparklings yet, and he certainly didn't want any like Amber!

Ultimately, Amber came up to Roadstead alone, though she had rather a lot to say about the mech. Guzzle, she said his name was, and that he certainly lived up to it. She also said he had been watching her for the last few orns, something which Roadstead couldn't confirm but saw no reason to deny. He certainly _sounded_ smarter than an average tank, though Roadstead knew that was prejudiced and insulting. Considering how taken Amber seemed to be with this Guzzle, he didn't bother pointing out that the actions were much closer to 'courting' than 'looking for a maid'.

They went back the next evening, and the same dance commenced. Roadstead tolerated it for a few more evenings, and then he was done being ignored. As much as he didn't like it, _he_ was Amber's guardian, and Guzzle slagging well needed to respect that.

This time, when Guzzle moved in to greet Amber (they were up to short hugs), Roadstead left his chair and picked his way over to them. Guzzle noticed him coming, and tried to duck behind Amber's sweeping wings. The Seeker wondered if she even realized she was trying to protect the tank.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just checking you out, so relax," Roadstead said, pushing Amber out of the way. "Pit, I'm _glad_ you're interested in her! But we still have to talk, and trying to hide doesn't really bode well..."

"...Sorry, sir," the tank murmured, edging his way out and shivering a little. "I'm not scared. I'm just..." He shifted, showing a scratched and obscured Autobot mark. Theirs was a brand like the Decepticons, but without the loyalty coding and virus, or exclusivity.

"I see. And now you're on New Kaon... Keeping your head down?" Roadstead nodded a little, mostly to himself. A former Autobot might be good for Amber. Either way, it was clear she liked him...

"Yeah. I mean, yes, sir. I don't want to give anyone troubles... but I do like Amber. She's... fun to talk to. And she told me she needs to format to rotary, so I already know that..."

Amber interrupted then. "I've told him more or less everything you said was important."

He thought, then shrugged. "Well, it does sound like the basics were covered, at least. And despite what it might seem, I'm not trying to hurry things along. But you, Guzzle, have to calm down. You're allowed to walk free, we're not going to be judging you. And you don't have to call anyone sir, it's kind of weird..." Roadstead twitched his wings. "Well. I guess it doesn't matter. I do suggest you two hang out outside of this club, though, and I will be waiting for your final decision- both of yours."

With a final, polite, nod, Roadstead outright left. Amber could, maybe, handle herself, and she certainly _ought_ to be able to do so by now, and Roadstead didn't really want to stay in the club. Not a grounder's club, anyway. He had his own clubs to go to... And the Seeker very much did want to go to those.

A few more deca-orns passed, with Amber and Guzzle actually continuing to draw closer. Roadstead was actually pretty amazed. He had foreseen this process taking much longer. Then again, it wasn't quite exactly as though they were dating...

Until Amber started staying at Guzzle's apartment. That was really quite the last straw for Roadstead, because if she was staying there, there was _no reason_ for _him_ to be staying off the frontlines. However, without her telling him, and a negotiated contract to prove it, he _couldn't_ leave.

And so the brown Seeker did the only thing he really could. He called a meeting with Guzzle, in one of the small, empty offices available for visiting branded Decepticons, or those who normally didn't need such a thing. He knew that Guzzle didn't feel comfortable with authority, but with the tank wasting his time like this, Roadstead found he didn't care.

Roadstead had settled in at the borrowed desk by the time Guzzle came, unsurprisingly with Amber. The femme didn't look particularly happy, but Guzzle wasn't letting her talk, holding her hand and pulling her to sit in the backless couch provided. Roadstead didn't want them uncomfortable, not terribly so, he just wanted to get across the fact that he had better things to be doing.

"You- You wanted to see me? Er... sir?" the white tank said, and it was very clear now that he had once been an Autobot, and still had much of the conditioning. He was more officious than a Decepticon would be, than he needed to be.

The brown Seeker nodded, though he smiled reassuringly. "I'm really not going to hurt you. But I've been rather expecting a meeting before now. I would say it's clear that Amber wants to stay with you- and I'm not asking details. So we just have to make it official."

Guzzle wrung his hands together a little before venturing, "We've been waiting because... well, we... we don't want to make something too... restrictive..."

Roadstead didn't even try to hide his smile at that. "That's not a problem with Decepticon contracts. I would have thought you'd been here long enough to know that. We'll set out the minimum you're required to do, but leave open possibilities..."

Wing-flutter distracted him slightly, the nonsensical garble of a femme using the wrong wing-motions. Amber was embarrassed, Roadstead thought, but still holding on to Guzzle's hand. Well, he wasn't going to ask. It wasn't his business, once he had determined Guzzle wasn't hurting or forcing her.

"Metrodash already wrote this up. You'll be obligated to see that she gets reformatted within a groon, Guzzle. You're also obligated to fuel and house her until you've been repaid. Amber, all you're obligated to do is chores around the house. Cleaning, maybe polishing, picking things up. No hard labor. You are _not_ required to touch him, or anyone else, in any way." Roadstead handed them the pad with the information.

"Of course, and I'm sure you noticed, but nothing there says more can't be _asked_. Or offered." Roadstead smiled, though his wings were somewhat obscene. "Also, if you find you can't _stand_ each other after a while, there's a provision for transferring the contract to a new mech."

Amber read it before Guzzle did, and Roadstead had the feeling that the tank would have simply taken his word for everything if Amber hadn't made him start. "That looks... a lot simpler than human contracts are..." she murmured. "Um. O-one question? Before, er... you're not responsible...?"

It was a little surprising, but Roadstead nodded. "Sure."

"I know you said I should update my own ID, and I get all that! But... How do I add a designation?" Amber looked down as she asked. "I mean... I can't 'prove' the change...?"

Roadstead chuckled, but he hadn't told Amber that. He had expected her new caretaker to know... but maybe it made sense that Guzzle didn't. "Have you checked the registry for the designation you want? You need to make sure that no other helio has it." Given the permutations of their language, that was much less of a restriction than it seemed. The hard part came when a designation needed to be translated...

"And then, assuming it's free, you just fill in the field. Because you don't have a designation, you get to 'change' it for free this time." Designations were changed, at times, but Roadstead very much doubted that any 'civilian' would find a need to change such one. If she did, she could ask someone else!

"I- It is. And I just..." Amber paused, gaze flickering to Guzzle, who looked up and smiled at her. She smiled back, nervously, and then went unfocused again. A moment later, she looked at Roadstead. "When... can I start using it?"

"You have to wait for the official update, but I suspect-" Roadstead paused as Amber, still very human, flinched a little and then smiled again. Just as he had thought... changes to designations were usually handled very quickly. Pinging the info-net, he nodded. "And now you can use it. ...Cleansweep?"

The femme looked down again, and Guzzle answered. "She's... very good at vaccuuming..."

"I don't care!" Roadstead said, raising his hands a little and laughing. "Is there anything on the contract that needs to be changed? No? Then sign and get out of my life!" He smiled when he said that, though, and he really wouldn't mind the occasional note, or message...

Two quiet 'yes sir's met his words, and first Guzzle and then Amber- Cleansweep, signed, looking quite too giddy over something so mundane. Roadstead added his glyph, then took the pad. "I'll get this filed. You two... good luck. I really do mean that." Standing, he saw them out the door, then parted ways.

-

As the shuttle took off from New Kaon, Roadstead watched the planet slowly recede. He was happy to be leaving, but only because he wanted to go back to the front, wanted to do more in his career. He was happy than Amber- Cleansweep now, had found someone to stay with, seemed happy with him...

But there was something that Roadstead had been neglecting.

"Metrodash... Is everything secured back there?" the Seeker called, head turned just enough to let the red grounder hear him. At the same time, he put the shuttle on autopilot. He had plans...

Technically, it wasn't possible for him to 'neglect' Metrodash. Legally, his pet/debtor/berthpet wanted what he did, when he did. But life, of course, never operated that black and white, and even though Metrodash would protest, Roadstead knew he had been neglecting his pet.

"Yes, Master!" the call came. A moment later, Metrodash came up to the bridge area, claiming a chair and stretching out. "...I'm glad she's gone..."

Roadstead laughed a little. "Yeah. I am too. Much prefer doing my own thing without human misconceptions interfering..." As he spoke, the Seeker slipped out of his seat and nuzzled Metrodash's hip. "Open up, 'Dash. You're mine, and I want to taste you." He wasn't going to speak of 'neglecting'... They both knew what this was about.

* * *

><p>And yes. I cut yet more smut. Here ya go. http:  magni-zeal . livejournal . com / 26679 . html


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